


California Sold

by isthatyoularry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Coming Out, Demisexual Character, Demisexuality, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-04-30 08:52:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 123,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5157680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isthatyoularry/pseuds/isthatyoularry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Notoriously closeted boyband member Harry Styles is famous on a global scale, meanwhile Louis, as his best friend, is back home in Manchester, living the typical life of a 24 year old. When Harry needs Louis with him in LA, a publicity stunt gone wrong changes their friendship forever. </p><p>A fake-relationship AU between two lifelong best friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiiiiii. I am back! And this time with a fake relationship AU - probably my favourite trope. This is a pretty recent story I've started on, and WIP obviously. I have no idea how long it's going to be, but right now I can see about 70k? We'll have to see. :)
> 
> So, Louis is demisexual in this story, and though I feel like I have done my research fairly thoroughly, PLEASE do tell me if I get something wrong. Please, pretty please :) But I hope you will like it, even though this is a pretty unusual sexuality occurring in H&L fics. The focus is not going to be that much on the boys' sexual and romantic orientations, but I wanted to get this across. 
> 
> **Disclaimer:** None of this is real. Nothing in this is meant to imply anything, nor does this reflect my personal beliefs about anything or anyone. This is fiction. Also I don't own One Direction but you knew that. As mentioned, I am not demisexual myself, and if I have gotten something wrong, feel free to correct me.
> 
>  **If you want to say hi:**  
>  Tumblr: [isthatyoularry](http://isthatyoularry.tumblr.com/)  
> Twitter: [isthatyoularry](https://twitter.com/isthatyoularry)

In this very significant moment, or rather insignificant if you will, Louis is standing in line at McDonald’s. It’s five AM, and he’s in a _line_. At five _AM_. Why are people even up at this ungodly hour? Fucking hell. 

To be fair, it is a Monday morning, but still. He’s not in the mood for waiting in line. As a matter of fact, waiting in a line is the _last_ thing he wants to do. He is hung over, his hoodie smells like smoke and beer, and he’s concurrently deprived of both sleep and coffee. 

The line moves forward at a snail’s pace. Louis is both grateful and annoyed. Moving too fast makes his head spin, yet he has to be back in Manchester at eight o’clock. Seeing as he’s in London, after spending a weekend indulging in indecent activities, he’s got about three hours to make it back home to shower and get to work.

He parted ways with Stan, Luke, and Cass somewhere on Leicester Square, then managed to find his way via the tube to Euston, where it took him fifteen minutes to find a direct train that would bring him back to Manchester where he starts his last week of subbing as a Drama-English teacher at a local school. He very well knows that he should have caught a train last night instead of deciding to give a go at Sunday night clubbing, but he is a twenty-four year old man who is supposed to be making poor decisions. He is not an official adult-adult until he is twenty-five, and has a permanent job in his field. He’s still got six months and a proper job to go.

The line moves forward a pace. As in _one_. His train leaves in seven minutes and forty seconds. Another pace. Only three more customers in front of him. The woman currently being rung up at the till is taking forever giving her order. Bitch. Who needs four coffees when they look like someone who pops five energising pills per hour? 

Louis can’t miss this train. 

This is one of the astonishingly few moments he wishes he had decided to come with his best friend to the X Factor auditions all those years ago. If he had done as well as Harry did on the talent show, he probably wouldn’t have had to wait in this line. Then again, he probably wouldn’t be in this line to begin with. He’d be in Los Angeles, cranking it up with overrated cool people. Although, he did just crank it up with pretty cool people here in London anyway. Plus, through Harry he knows life of a celebrity isn’t all that incredible. Actually, it seems to pretty much suck, apart from the bump in status that gives the perks of course. Then again, one could most likely receive those perks if they had the money. 

It’s all about being rich, it seems. 

Louis is never going to be rich. Teacher salaries are, at best, average. Regardless, he decided to study for three years to become one, and has yet to find a permanent position since he graduated. He did take a few months to travel, but it has been two years. He is waiting, and religiously praying, for that old man at the local college to retire so he can snatch the Drama-English position, and thus being able to work near his flat and in a close proximity to where his family lives. 

The line moves along, and Louis can finally order four minutes before his train is leaving. From there he spurts through the station, paper bag with the burger and chips in one hand, and the cup of coke in the other. He manages not to spill as he swerves through crowds of people on the platform, and literally jumps onto the train seconds before the door closes. He is nothing if not scrappy. 

He finds a seat, and once the train starts moving he eats a well-earned breakfast, sending off a text to Stan, proclaiming himself a right champ for assuring he’ll make it back to Manchester on time. When he is entirely stuffed with his 5AM meal, he pulls up his hoodie and props his feet on the seat next to his, taking advantage of the few hours ahead of him to get some rest before he has to work.

The sun has almost risen completely when he gets off the train. He blinks groggily, rubbing his sore neck. He takes the shuttle home, reminding himself his card is almost out of money, and makes it home to the flat in under seven minutes. It’s fifteen until class is supposed to start. 

Showering, brushing his teeth, and packing his things take an impressive ten minutes. His hair is still wet when he arrives at campus in his neighbour’s car, shutting the door with a loud smack, and locking it with a press on the button of the key. He hangs his worn satchel — it’s had a few impressive and rather scandalous years during uni — over his shoulder, noting he’s got exactly sixty seconds to get to classroom 2 in building 3 after a quick glance at the shitty watch on his wrist.

If he wants to make it on time he has to run. Fat chance. 

He makes his way across campus at a slow pace that doesn’t disturb his pounding head, because those little fuckers can damn well wait. Louis doubts they’ll mind a few minutes less of class, anyway. He internally groans pathetically as he drags his feet, which he shouldn’t be doing because his Vans are new and were actually quite expensive. He faintly wishes Harry would sign an endorsement deal with Vans instead of brands like YSL and Louis Vuitton, exclusively for the reason that he wants stuff. Louis needs the stuff.

When Louis arrives at the assigned classroom, the adolescent students are waiting in the corridor, books under their arms and chitchatting idly in groups. They look up when he ambles over, clearly noting the state he is in. He mocks sardonic smiles at the few who dare arching a brow as he unlocks the door with the keys, before stumbling inside and settling down at the professor’s desk. As the students fill the classroom, Louis is snuggling further into the hoodie he is wearing, blinking sleepily. 

They’re talking far too loudly. His ears hurt. 

“Right!” he calls loudly, cutting them off, and nearly winces at his own voice. “Today we will be doing absolutely nothing. And while you do nothing, you will be quiet. Not a word will be spoken inside this classroom for the next hour. Understood?”

He is met by confused stares. 

“Just… work on homework for other classes, or something.” He scoffs at them. “Why are you looking at me like that? Do you want me to go through ancient authors from the era of romanticism?” 

They all splutter out versions of ‘no, thanks’ and quickly get to work, meanwhile Louis pulls his hoodie up, plants his feet on the desk, and closes his eyes. Barely three hours of sleep after the weekend he has had is clearly not enough. 

“He is so hungover,” he hears someone whisper to his left, somewhere in the front of the room. 

“I heard that!” he calls, not even opening an eye, making them giggle to themselves. 

Louis bites down a small smile, despite himself. He takes pride in making students giggle. When he was in secondary he used to like the teachers that were young and fun, and had the rare ability to make students laugh — and not the pity laugh, the _genuine_ laugh. 

He enjoys having younger people look up to him. He has six younger siblings, so, yes, he supposes that’s where he gets his role model aspirations from. He wants to be someone younger people can look up to, and perhaps not in the ‘I’m so put-together, and I have found my place in life’ way, but in the ‘hey, I’ve got some experience, you can always talk to me’ aspect. That’s the kind of teacher he wants to be. He works hard to become that person. Not today, perhaps not, but any other. 

His phone starts silently buzzing in his pocket halfway into the lesson (lesson… nap-hour, call it what you will), and Louis opens his eyes to peek down at it, checking the caller-ID. After a quick survey he brings it to his ear, hanging his head back and closing his eyes. 

“I am so glad you’re calling,” he moans, nuzzling further into his hoodie that covers half his eyesight. “You will not believe the weekend I’ve had.”

Harry’s voice is raspy, yet so incredibly soft. Louis could potentially use it as a lullaby. “Lou? Are you drunk? It’s Monday morning for you.”

Louis raises a finger in the air. 

“Not drunk,” he declares proudly. “Hungover. And this shit job doesn’t require much.” He sighs, and he can feel students looking at him. He opens an eye for a second, meeting the kids’ stares. “You heard me.”

“I thought you liked this gig.”

Louis sighs, closing his eyes once more as he scratches at his hairline. “Yeah, my head just hurts like a bitch. What’re you doing up anyway? Are you at a fancy and exceedingly boring party, or summat?”

“No, I just miss you.” 

Louis is silent for a moment, brows knitting in concern for his best friend. He knows that voice. “Hey, love. You okay, pal?”

The extra second it takes for him to answer tells Louis more than the few words he actually utters. “I’m alright.”

“ _H_.”

“I miss you.” 

Louis opens his eyes, sitting up straighter in his seat. It was a while ago Harry sounded like this over the phone, and the last time ended with Harry’s mum flying all the way out to Toronto after Louis spoke to her about the conversation. His brow furrows further, worry slowly starting to gnaw at his insides, the feeling building rapidly within.

“What’s going on, Harry? Really?”

“It’s… a lot right now.” He sounds strained, voice thick. He continues in a whisper. “People are being very invasive right now. Like, there are paps everywhere I go, my team can’t stop reporters from asking questions, and the tabloids are writing _horrible_ things…”

“Love,” Louis says quietly, turning around to face the whiteboard lest his students see his worried expression. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Take a deep breath, alright?” 

Harry has always been very good at ignoring the press, keeping it cool, and remaining ever the sunglasses emoji with a peace sign, really, in the public eye. Last time there was a call like this, it was after Harry started amplifying his campness properly, expressing more of his true self to the cameras, which resulted in a media outburst. 

See, Harry wants people to know that he is gay, but it’s not easy dealing with the process of pushing everything into motion. He started by changing his clothing, slowly daring to take his love for colourful, patterned shirts public, growing his hair out, to saying things like ‘don’t knock it ‘til you try it’ about sleeping with men. The only thing is, people are going _mental_ about it. 

Harry’s boyband is massive, and Harry about to come clean about his sexuality has turned the usual frenzy of the media into something on an entirely different level. His team do their best, but they can’t control much, which is absurd, but true. They do have Harry’s best at heart, and they do try their hardest, but after Harry’s band shot through the roof with attention, it never stopped. They continue to get bigger and bigger, and in the matter of five and a half years they’ve played the Super Bowl twice. If that doesn’t showcase enough, Louis doesn’t know what will. It’s some sort of otherworldly frenzy that surrounds Harry on the daily. He has moved twice and changed his number uncountable times just this year to avoid the intrusiveness of fans, paparazzi, and stalkers. Louis has never blamed Harry for mentally faltering once in awhile. 

Louis can hear him inhaling in deep, slow breaths, but he can also tell it isn’t enough. 

“Babe,” he murmurs quietly, trying to exude warmth and tranquility, wishing he could mentally transfer it over the phone so it could fester in Harry. “H? Breathe with me, okay. In… out.” He repeats the inhales and exhales a few times, able to hear his best friend’s breath shake. 

He is momentarily worried this isn’t enough. 

“Hey, is anyone with you? Are you alone?” he asks after another minute of silence, concern evident in his voice. 

“No, Jeff’s in the other room, but… s’not enough, Lou,” he whispers. “I…” he croaks, voice breaking, not another word coming out. All Louis can hear is hitchy breaths that sound perilously like sobs. 

He swallows quietly, closing his eyes for one moment to contemplate. His job as a sub ends on Friday, when the actual teacher comes back from maternity leave, and his Mum and siblings are good on the babysitting front as Fizzy is still living at home.

“How soon do you need me?” he asks. 

“Now,” Harry whispers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is when the story properly begins! Hope you will enjoy it! 
> 
> **If you want to see more of me:**  
>  Tumblr: [isthatyoularry](isthatyoularry.tumblr.com)  
> Twitter: [isthatyoularry](https://twitter.com/isthatyoularry)

Louis has traveled out to Los Angeles on more than a few occasions, and the flights are mostly the same. Nice service, nice chairs, and a proper load of film options. But this time, on the contrary to normal flights out, his chest is now churning with a terrible concern.

It’s Friday night in London, Louis having packed up two large suitcases on Thursday to leg it to the airport as soon as he could clock out at work the next day. His normal trips over to America are usually planned long beforehand, but right now Harry needs him. 

Harry has always been sensitive. Of course, he has learned to deal with fans, press, and criticism, but it’s a personality trait just like any other. Like Louis is loud, handsy, and thick skinned, Harry is ever the social butterfly, funny, smart, _and_ sensitive. They fit quite well, if Louis gets to say so himself. They grew up together, in the little neighbourhood in Manchester. The propinquity of their childhood homes made it a simplicity for them to play as kids, and since then they have always been pieces meant to be attached, fitting into the world of the rest of the puzzle together. They’re each other’s everything. It doesn’t matter that they don’t see each other more than a few weeks at a time per year lately, because they never lose that sense of intimacy, the one that has gotten them through so much together. The connection between them will never subside.

Harry was the first person Louis told that he is demisexual. At fourteen he had spent too many hours online and with his nose deep in sexuality books than a normal teenager, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to know what was happening to him, and eventually he came to the conclusion that he doesn’t fall for just anybody. He falls for someone _special_. The diamonds among the pieces of coal, Harry had supplied that day Louis had stuttered it out as they sat on Harry’s bed. 

Harry hadn’t known at the time that there was more to it than straight, gay, and bisexual, but he is honest to God the sweetest and least judgmental person on the planet. Louis could wear jeans from _Asda_ and Harry would shrug, say there’s probably a reason why Louis bought those, and that it isn’t his business anyway. There is not a person on the planet that Louis loves more than Harry. 

Harry who cried, and came out to Louis as gay only a year and a half later, scared shitless because he was only thirteen at the time, and people always used to say you’re too young to know at that age, but he _knew_.

Louis came with Harry when he auditioned for The X Factor, naturally. He stood backstage, hands clutched at his chest, teeth sunk into his lip, as he waited for the judges to let Harry sing his a cappella version of ‘Isn’t She Lovely’ that he had practiced every day for a month straight. 

He got through, of course. And then he got eliminated, but put into a band. Louis isn’t lying when he says he wasn’t jealous of the quick fame Harry gained, because he was too busy holding Harry’s hand through it all, too busy being his best friend. It might seem unrealistic that there was no jealousy from his side as an eighteen year old boy, but the only times he can think of being sour have been when Harry has encountered various footballers (Beckham, in particular) that Louis still idolises and Harry only knows the bare minimum of. He would never in a million years resent him for that, though.

Louis lands in Los Angeles in the late afternoon, local time. His pulse ticks a little faster once the aircraft hits ground, the worry about his best friend prodding at him. He has kept in firm contact with him during the week, making sure he is stable. It sounds dramatic phrasing it that way, but it’s the truth. Harry should not be alone when he isn’t feeling good psychologically. 

Alberto, Harry’s bodyguard, meets him at the gate. Louis hasn’t seen the man in months, but he still looks the same, perhaps slightly older. He’s in his forties, is burly and a bit taller than Louis, hair black, and skin naturally tan. He smiles back at Louis when he greets him happily, instantly raising his arms to capture him in a light hug. 

“Alberto!” 

“Good to see you, Louis,” he chuckles, patting his back. They have always gotten on well, Harry’s bodyguard and him. 

They quickly head toward baggage claim, where they grab Louis’ things as soon as possible, Alberto snatching the heaviest with a playful smile in his direction, making him roll his eyes. His grin doesn’t last too long, however. His skin is still itching, the urge to get to Harry as soon as possible pumping through his chest.

“How is… everything?” he asks carefully. 

Alberto glances down at him, forehead creased. “Not gonna lie, it’s very intense. I’m glad you’re here. I think he needs that.”

Louis nods solemnly, biting the inside of his lip. “Is he here?”

“Waiting in the car for you. He wanted to see you as soon as possible.” The man wears a small smile, and for whatever reason Louis almost blushes. He knows Alberto finds their relationship adorable, there’s just something in his eye whenever he talks about them. Maybe because Harry tends to ramble about him a lot (Louis knows, because all of Harry’s friends seem to know him before he has even shook their hand. He asked Harry about it once and he had simply blushed, muttering a ‘you’re my best mate,’ and that was that). 

A smile breaks out on its own accord as soon as he sees the black escalade waiting by the curb. Alberto leads him there, and takes his luggage, stashing it in the trunk while he gestures for Louis to enter the vehicle in the back. Louis does as told, and as soon as he has opened the car door he is pulled inside, and his face is buried in a thick wave of brown curls. 

They don’t say anything. They don’t need to. 

Harry holds him close to himself as though he needs him to breathe. His fingers dig into Louis’ back through his shirt, his nose pressed to his throat. He feels him breathe in against his skin, inhaling deeply, breath after breath, as if Louis’ smell will cure whatever turmoil is erupting inside him. 

Louis strokes his back softly, firmly keeping him tucked against himself. No matter that Harry has grown taller and bigger than Louis in every physical way; he still tries to cuddle his way into Louis’ heart, because he knows he will fit there. 

“Love you,” Louis hums, and before he knows it Harry’s shoulders are shaking. It’s tiny vibrations, but Louis can’t stand Harry crying. It hurts. “H.”

He feels the soft little kiss Harry places against his collarbone before he lifts his head, facing Louis for the first time. His arms are still locked around Louis’ frame, but their faces are centimetres apart. He feels his stomach drop as he gauges his face, the corners of his mouth pulling down involuntarily. 

Harry’s eyes are red, like they always become when he squeezes his eyes shut to keep his tears in. His lips are chapped, his skin is pale, and there are circles under his eyes, like he hasn’t slept properly in weeks. He doesn’t look like he is in a good place. Not at all. 

The car starts moving, and Louis’ hands slide from his shoulders and up his neck until he is cupping his face, thumbs stroking at his jaw. “When did you sleep the whole night through last?” 

Harry snorts, shaking head and making his long curls hide his face. Louis brushes them away, thumbs gently patting the purple blemishes under his eyes. “I don’t remember,” he says. 

They stare at each other for several seconds, silence anything but stiff, but Louis’ worry hasn’t eased up as much as he would like. Harry’s shoulders sag, face softening as his thumbs come to brush along Louis’ eyebrows. 

“Hey,” he hums. “You’re gonna get wrinkles frowning like that.”

“And whose fault is that?” Louis counters, but he doesn’t mean it. 

“Sorry.” Harry draws another breath, pulling Louis back against the seat and cuddling into his side, resting his temple against his shoulder. 

“Don’t apologise, darling.” Louis adds the next sentences because he knows Harry needs to hear them, even though the younger boy knows it deep down. “I worry about you because I love you. We’re a molecule, yeah? If you don’t work, I don’t work. And if you need me, I come running.” He shrugs. It’s that simple. 

_Calleth you, cometh I._

“Love you…” 

“Love you.”

The drive to Harry’s house takes another thirty minutes. They spend the ride mostly in silence, Louis’ hand stroking over Harry’s hoodie covered chest as he leans against him, eyes closed. 

They reach the gated community in which Harry’s new house is located eventually. All of the Californian mansions are large, and all accompanied by larger lawns or green hedges, and the driveways behind additional gates come with shiny cars — multiple. Louis knows that Harry belongs to this lifestyle now, but he can’t help but snort at the pretentiousness of some of the properties they pass. Hedges shaped into statues is a bit over the top, innit? He is fairly certain this area is posher than the last neighbourhood Harry resided in last time he visited, but for better security maybe this is what you get. 

Harry’s new house is in the faintest scale of blue, with white windowpanes. It’s pretty, and manages to not looks as extravagant as the houses surrounding it. There’s a large patio in the back, which is naturally accompanied by a pool and a jacuzzi. The house itself has a large kitchen, several big bedrooms, two living rooms, and too many bathrooms. Louis makes fun of the wallpaper in one of the rooms, to which Harry rolls his eyes, defending himself by claiming he just hasn’t gotten around to fixing it yet. 

They settle down in Harry’s master bedroom at last, both of them sprawling out on their backs. The four poster bed has lavender curtains, and Louis briefly thinks that having sex in here, in this purple cocoon, would probably be amazing. With the right person, naturally. 

Louis’ eyes trail over Harry’s face, watching him watch him back with his wide, green eyes. Louis has known him since they were kids. Those eyes have always been the same, the colour so clear, grey speckles in there making them look so much deeper. He despises the tired lines around them, making him look so exhausted. 

“What is happening?” he finally asks, whispering softly. 

Harry swallows, and his hand finds Louis’ forearm, fingers winding around his wrist. His thumb strokes the skin there, but he twists his head away, eyes on the ceiling of the bed. 

“Everything has happened so fast,” he begins, throat sounding almost sore. The corners of his mouth are already pulling down. “It wasn’t meant to happen this soon, you know?” He takes a shaky breath. “The media just jumped on it, right? I don’t know how much is happening in the press back home, but here… it’s insane. I didn’t think it would be this huge.” He hiccups, and suddenly the tears are streaming down his cheeks again. 

Louis’ free hand instantly clutches his closest limb, squeezing reassuringly, starting to stroke up and down the inside of his forearm. 

“It was just supposed to set the initial idea that I wasn’t… that I’m gay. But… it’s already intense on a normal day, like… I had to fucking move here, you know?” His whole arm tenses in frustration, and Louis so badly wants to make it all go away, but he can’t. Harry turns his head, facing him again. His eyes are glassy. “The press is too much,” he sniffles. “Can’t control it.”

“They don’t want to cooperate?” Louis frowns, thumb digging into Harry’s flesh.

He shakes his head. “Apparently the story is too big to be quiet on. Jeff reckons they think I’ll be out too soon for it to be profitable to keep quiet.”

“So, what are you gonna do?”

“The timeline is too fucked up,” Harry says, hands lifting and falling helplessly. “I’m not supposed to be out until September when the album comes out. We’re getting loads of promo without trying right now, so we released the single early to make use of the publicity. But…” He swallows. “Lou, it’s gonna blow over by the time the album is out.”

“Do you really want your coming out to be a PR pawn, though?” Louis frowns.

Harry shrugs. 

“What choice do I have? It’s gonna get publicity either way. Why not when the album is coming out? I want it to do well, and the boys deserve that, too. But… as it is right now, it won’t be big enough to boost it that much if the media continues this way. The story won’t be big enough up the road if I come out too soon.”

Louis blows out his cheeks. “So what are you gonna do? I mean, you’re trying to stop the media from speculating, yeah?”

Harry hesitates, which makes Louis instantly wary. His best mate continues in a mumble, voice sounding remote. 

“Jeff thinks it’s a good idea to calm it down by putting me with a girl.”

“What?” Louis says sharply, instantly opposed. “But it’s in your contract since last year that —”

“It’s their last option, like, literally the last thing they would do. And they can only do it if I agree.”

They stare at each other, Louis’ throat suddenly feeling awfully tight. He wants to say no, tell Harry to absolutely not do this. He knows how much faux relationships and stunts have bothered him in the past, and he doesn’t want him to have to do it all over again. But is it better in comparison to what is going on right now? Is it perhaps worth it?

Louis takes a deep breath, and shuffles further up the bed and closer to Harry. He takes his hands, holding them in his warmly. 

“Do you want to do that? Do you think it’s a good idea?” He watches him intently. “Do you think you could do it?”

“I just want it to stop,” whispers Harry, eyes trained on Louis’, big and filled with distress.

Fuck. 

“Come here.” He pulls at him until Harry is tucked into him, cradled in his arms, head resting on his shoulder. Louis leaves his chin on the top of his head, exhaling slowly. 

“Will you come with me?” Harry mumbles. 

“Of course, love.” He strokes his hair back, fingers carding through brown curls. “When is it?” he murmurs. 

“Soon.”

Louis nods. “What do I have to do?”

“Just be there, through every step of the way?”

He smiles, squeezing Harry’s hand in his. “Every step. Promise.”

They lie silently after that, breathing slowly in the purple cocoon. Louis focuses on keeping Harry warm in his arms, even though his mind is racing. Their relationship has changed immensely during the years, but simultaneously it has remained precisely the same.

When they were kids, the age difference was always more significant. Louis had all of his firsts before Harry; his first party, his first kiss, homecoming, first time being drunk, his sexuality realisation… That never mattered, though. Louis loved being Harry’s older friend, he loved showing him new things, and teaching him about stuff he hadn’t quite encountered yet. He also loved protecting him. If there was a mean kid in Harry’s class in secondary, Harry could always mention his best mate in two grades above. But other than that, it never mattered that he was older, though it was largely more significant back then. 

Now, they have grown up, and they’re almost adults-adults. They live such different lives, and nowadays it’s almost always Harry showing Louis the new things. Louis loves that, though, and he loves learning about the world Harry is living in. The roles are somewhat reversed now, but it’s okay. They are physically so far apart these days, yet there is not a day where Louis feels removed from him. 

Their friendship has changed, but still here Louis is, holding Harry to his chest, trying to protect him to the extent he is able to. 

To the public, Harry is a confident, good-looking singer-songwriter cake that everybody wants a piece off. He wears high-end fashion for clothing, owns flashy cars, had a period where he looked like Mick Jagger’s offspring, and Louis doesn’t think anyone would even dream of the parts of Harry that is kept in the shadows. This part, the sensitive side of Harry, for one. The quiet, the soft, the dorkily funny and entirely endearing pieces of him. He is not some casanova like the world’s population seems to think. True, the public gets him in some measure, in bits and pieces, but Louis’ Harry is not anything like the world’s Harry. 

“Thank you for being here,” the boy murmurs into his shirt.

“No problem, mate,” Louis smiles softly. “I’ve missed you. Needed to see you anyway.”

“I was going to invite you to come during summer, but I couldn’t wait.”

“I couldn’t wait either, pumpkin.”

Harry snorts a laugh at the nickname, chuckling throatily. “You’re the best.”

“I know.”

They laugh quietly, falling back into a comfortable silence. Silences can tell the most about a relationship between two people, Louis has always believed. 

Eventually they leave bed, and head downstairs to the kitchen. Louis finds frozen pizzas in the freezer, which they heat in the oven. Louis hums on an old song, sitting on the counter as Harry brings out plates and cutlery. He seems slightly tense still, shoulders stiff and back tight, but most of all he looks exhausted. He has pulled his shoulder-length hair into a bun, and changed into a large dark-blue jumper that hangs low over a pair of grey sweats. He should look content and comfortable, but to an extent he doesn’t.

They eat pan pizza at the kitchen table, feet lounging on a second chair, cans of coke surrounding them. Louis is hungry and consumes far more than Harry, who doesn’t seem too interested in the food. Louis tries to get him to relax, poking his thighs with his toes, and eliciting small laughs from him. The dimples start popping out more and more eventually, and he seems somewhat brighter once they put the dishes away, and cuddle up in front of the telly. 

The film that is on is a rom-com that’s probably more than ten years old. Louis has seen it before, but even if he hadn’t the ending is clear five minutes in. 

“I should call Jeff,” Harry mumbles somewhere in the middle of it, and Louis realises his friend hasn’t been focusing much on the movie. 

“Okay,” he nods, watching as Harry shifts on the sofa, fetching his phone from the pocket of his sweats. He averts his eyes while Harry dials, trying not to listen in. 

The man on the screen, the protagonist’s love interest, is clearly gorgeous. To be entirely honest, Louis often finds himself looking more at men than women. It doesn’t have any effect on his sexuality in the end, because it doesn’t change the fact that he can’t picture himself having sex with anyone he doesn’t feel anything for. He cringes at the thought of being with a stranger, and he cringes at the thought of being with anyone at all sometimes. It has always just been entirely off the map in his head, unless there has been this one, particular person.

When he told his sisters about his sexuality, the eldest, Lottie, had been very interested. She held up her phone to him, showing him pictures of gorgeous women and handsome men, squawking a surprised ‘not even him?’ when he shrugged, and said no. That’s not to say he hasn’t kissed people he doesn’t know, because he has. The thing is, he doesn’t enjoy it. It’s simply uncomfortable, and awkward. The thought of anyone’s hands on him he doesn’t feel anything for, and maybe even when he does, makes him nauseous. 

He remembers one night, when he was out clubbing with mates. It’s two years ago now, probably, and even then he was certain of his sexuality and had accepted it long beforehand. He was comfortable with being demisexual, yet he had felt the urge to be with someone. It wasn’t a sexual urge, as he wasn’t sexually aroused, because he as a rule never is, but he had found himself a bloke on the dance floor. As soon as the man’s hands were on his arse, though, he couldn’t do it, discomfort shooting through his veins like adrenaline. The conclusion he came to, was that no matter that he doesn’t want to be sexual with people he doesn’t have a deep connection with, it doesn’t stop the longing inside him, the want to find somebody he could, maybe, potentially, want to be with that intimately. A person who he one day could feel that want with. Maybe. 

There’s a spectrum, right. It goes all the way from straight to gay, and there are a bunch of stops along the way. There’s also another one, which goes from being frequently sexually aroused to never sexually aroused. Louis finds that he identifies mostly with being demisexual, which should be somewhere in the middle, leaning toward asexual, but there are still versions within that sexuality itself. It’s complicated. When people ask him what it means after he has explain it already once, he bluntly tells them to look it up, or fuck off. Sexuality is fluid, anyway.

He gnaws on the inside of his lip as he watches the pair on the telly share a tentative kiss, their cheeks warm and smiles bashful. He hasn’t been with anyone in two and a half years, probably more. It’s hard to find people he really connects to. 

Harry is still murmuring into the phone, having lain down on his end of the sofa, his feet tucked in between Louis’ calves despite having his own blanket to wrap them up in. Louis watches his lips move, grazing the shell of the device tucked under his cheek. There’s a single curl touching the corner of his mouth, having sprung free from the rest of his mane. When Harry hangs up, he blinks tiredly at Louis, toes moving between his legs. 

“What did he say?” Louis prompts quietly.

“They want to do it as soon as possible.”

“Which is?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“Oh.” Louis nods. “Is that okay with you?”

“Better just get it over with,” he sighs. “Jeff told me to tell you to tweet something, just to let the fans now you’re around.”

“Do they even care?” Louis arches a brow. 

“You’re my best mate. Of course they care.” He says it so matter-of-factly, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. 

Louis agrees, and fetches his phone from his pocket. He downloads the Twitter app, after requesting the wi-fi password (jingleballs3), because he honestly hasn’t been on in months. He reckons there are less than a hundred tweets, and he has had the account for five years now. He only ever uses it occasionally, mostly when he is visiting Harry. Apparently, Twitter is a necessity for celebrities these days. Harry’s fans can be rather hilarious at times, but Louis mostly finds the attention whenever he is online surprising. The interest people have in celebs’ friends and family these days is fascinating; maybe they believe they’re closer to the celebrity at hand if they can reach their inner circle? At any rate, Louis hasn’t been on Twitter in months, and for Harry’s fans, Louis being online means he’s in Los Angeles with their idol. 

He cackles once he reads his last tweet, snorting. 

“I had forgotten about that,” he hums. Harry shuffles on the couch, snuggling up to him, and Louis feels his breath hit his cheek when he chortles, rolling his eyes.

“‘Does anyone really care what Simon Cowell has to say? No? Hashtag pec implants.’” Harry giggles to himself again, dimples appearing in his soft cheeks. “I remember when you posted that,” he smiles. “I wanted to retweet it, but my social media manager didn’t allow it. She deleted it off the server my account goes through.”

Louis snorts. “Fuck her. I would have been famous.” 

They scroll through Louis’ previous tweets, the few that exist. Louis has no idea why he tweeted most of it. It’s mostly jabs at press stories about Harry, or personal insults to people who have offended him. There’s the occasional reply to a fan, and an even rarer praise to a song he’d heard and thought of sharing. His account has almost a million followers, which is honestly insane, especially when he only follows eleven, two of them Harry and Jeff Azoff. 

_Louis Tomlinson (@louist91)  
Guess who’s back. Missed you fish stick @Harry_Styles_

“Thank you,” Harry says good-naturedly, as if ‘fish stick’ is nothing out of the ordinary to call a mate. 

He remains by Louis’ side, eyes averting from the phone and alighting on the TV screen. Louis stashes the device away, looping his arm with Harry’s, and silence once again falls between them. They watch the pair in the film resolve some sort of inevitable misunderstanding-turned-fight, Louis blinking slowly. It’s probably past midnight back home in London, and the sun hasn’t even started to retire for the day here. It feels like ages ago he was at home, stuffing a sandwich into his mouth before once more borrowing his alcoholic neighbour’s car to work. 

Eventually he feels himself about to drift off, catching himself as his eyes have just slid shut on their own accord. He blinks rapidly, inhaling deeply in a yawn. He should probably go to bed before he falls asleep against the armrest of the sofa and wakes up with a neck problem. He turns to Harry, about tell him he’s about to clock out and should go to bed, but when he opens his mouth he finds that Harry is already sleeping soundly, cheek pressed flat against Louis’ upper arm. 

Louis’ insides tighten as he watches him. He looks so exhausted, yet sweet where he lies, cheeks soft and lips plump. He strokes the side of his face with the back of his finger, touch barely a brush. 

“Glad you can finally sleep, pal,” he hums, biting the bottom of his lip. Sometimes he hates the fucking fame that seems to drain the life out of him.

Carefully, he removes himself from the boy, unlooping his arm from where it’s clutched between Harry’s chest and arm. He gently lets him lie down, shooting a cushion under his head. He doesn’t want to leave him alone, so he cuddles up in the opposite corner of the couch after fetching another blanket to drape over them. He falls asleep seconds after closing his eyes. 

When Louis wakes up the following morning, the smell of bacon is what does the trick. The blanket is fitted snuggly around his shoulders in a way he surely couldn’t have done in his sleep, and the other side of the sofa is empty, but obviously slept on. Louis inhales deeply, content smile breaking out as he squeezes the cushion beneath him tightly, the bones in his body stiff. He drags himself from the living room, draping himself in the blanket like a cape, and finds his way into the kitchen. 

“What the fuck, pup,” he croaks, blinking slowly at the kitchen table. The surface is laid with plates and cutlery, along with a carafe with orange juice, a pot filled with evidently black coffee, and there are several bowls of different kinds of fruit and berries. The kitchen worktop is covered in flour and excess material from something that is cooking in the oven, and the room smells far too good, bacon and pancakes detectable by the stove where Harry is huddled. 

“I like cooking for people,” the boy in question shrugs when he turns to face him, smile poking the corners of his mouth up, like a cat. “Especially you,” he adds, crooking his head to the side as he gently grins.

“I know,” Louis hums groggily. “When did you get up?”

“An hour ago?” he estimates, pouring more batter into the frying pan.

“Time’s it?”

“Ten, soon.”

Louis arches a brow, jumping up on the counter where it isn’t littered with baking supplies. 

“Did we really sleep that long?” 

He steals a grape from a bowl that has yet to be placed on the table, chewing with his mouth open. Harry only shrugs again, flipping over a pancake. He is still in the same clothes from the day before like Louis, whose skin is itching in his old socks. He contemplates toeing them off, but Harry would have a fit and swat at him if he took them off where he has plumped down on the worktop. Neat freak. 

“Are you ready for tonight?” he asks tentatively instead, watching Harry at the stove. His friend stops in his movements, fingers seeming to loosen on the spatula. He mindfully puts it down, turning around. 

“Can we not talk about it, please?” he requests quietly, arms slinging around his own torso. Louis instantly feels guilty for bringing it up, swallowing as Harry looks down at his own feet. “I just want to enjoy the day with you.”

“Of course,” he agrees softly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” 

He turns back to the stove, finger pressing the touch-screen, a high-pitched sound beeping as he shuts the heat off, and removes the fryingpan. They sit down at the presumably rather expensive wooden table, the plate topped with pancakes and bacon making Louis’ stomach growl. Harry shoots it toward him, urging him on with a tiny smile. He has always loved being domestic, and cooking for Louis isn’t an exception to the rule. Louis still remembers Sunday mornings before Harry auditioned for The X Factor, when the younger boy would come over early to see Louis, and then ended up cooking breakfast while the Tomlinson kids that were up waited patiently by the kitchen table. Louis’ mum thought it was adorable, and still mentions it now, years later. 

“What are the boys up to then?” Louis asks idly, stuffing a forkful of pancake into his mouth. Harry swallows around his coffee. 

“Niall’s in Vegas. A friend of his is turning twenty-one, so Niall brought the entire group of friends there.”

“And you didn’t want to come?”

Harry shrugs. “Wasn’t in the mood for Vegas. Plus, I don’t really know the bloke.”

“Liam and Zayn?”

“Zayn is doing nothing, like me. Was over at his the other day. And Liam is hitting New York City with Soph.” He dips his fork in syrup. “Haven’t seen him in a while.”

“How come you guys haven’t implemented that big lads holiday yet?”

“Dunno. Haven’t had the time, really. Been so much to do lately with… everything.” He bites his lip, looking down at the plate before him. 

“Well,” Louis starts, “maybe this summer? You gotta have some time off before you begin promoting the album. Could be nice before everything begins.” 

“Maybe.”

They spend the rest of the day actively not talking about the upcoming night. Louis can tell Harry is nervous, and it gets more and more obvious as the time ticks closer and closer. He wants to reassure him everything will be fine, but he is afraid mentioning it might make it worse. In the end, Harry’s manager calls at five o’clock anyway to talk Harry and Louis both through the night, and Louis can finally try to console him, because speaking about the stunt is indeed making it worse. 

Later, Harry and Louis get dressed to the best of their ability. Harry naturally looks dashing in his black trousers with thin white stripes, and a black simple button down that hangs halfway unbuttoned from his shoulders. His newly washed curls look shiny and luscious around his heart-shaped face. He looks good, almost sweet with his flushed cheeks. Of course, Louis knows that pink colour is from his nerves. 

Louis himself is dressed in simple black skinny jeans, and there is a pair of white Reebok sneakers on his feet. A white t-shirt, fairly low over his crotch and short sleeves pinned at the top of his biceps, is covering his chest. He doesn’t typically like to dress up, has always had a charming way to make casual seem somewhat formal actually (his mother has always found it simultaneously endearing and frustrating), and dressing up this evening isn’t an exception. And, quite honestly, dressing up for something he’s quietly dreading seems rather masochistic, for some reason. 

Louis is putting the final touches to his hair when Harry comes into the bathroom. Louis can see him leaning in the doorway through the large, immaculately clean mirror, biting his soft lip. His eyes follow Louis’ movements, blinking slowly over the glassy greens. 

“Do I look okay enough to be seen with you?” Louis murmurs, chin pressed to his throat as he stares at his own reflection, shaping a few strands in the right direction at the top of his head. 

“You look sexy,” Harry says back. 

Louis snorts. “Thanks, pup.”

“I’m serious.”

Louis’ arms fall to his sides as he turns to face Harry properly, flashing him a grin. 

“Well, if you say so,” he murmurs, stepping into his space. He flattens a hand over the centre of Harry’s flat stomach that is visible at his open shirt. He lets his fingertips drum over his skin once each. “You, too, though,” he says, earnest. Their eyes meet for a moment, Harry looking down at him with no intention of breaking the stare. Louis swallows. “If you want to… stop tonight, just tell me, and we will leave by ourselves, yeah?”

Harry sighs, shoulders slumping, and Louis’ hand falls off his chest. “I know what I am doing. It’s for the best.”

“Still Harry. It’s okay if you don’t pull through. We will do it some other way. Maybe Jeff can get a magazine to publish some story instead?”

“Lou, you’re making it worse. I have to do this.” Harry looks at him with pleading eyes. 

Louis sighs, resigned. “Okay. I won’t say anything more, but only as long as you promise to tell me if you change your mind. Yeah?” He stares at him seriously, brows arched.

Harry smiles a little too casually for Louis’ liking. His best friend has a habit of pushing things down, until they are boiling under the surface. He can flip a switch at the most surprising moments, some sort of defence mechanism he has developed through his years of fame.

“I will,” he promises, and then leans down to plant a sappy quick kiss to Louis’ cheek, before turning around and nearly skipping in his step as he hurries through the bedroom and downstairs. 

Ominous. Louis watches with concern. Ominous, to say the least. 

They leave at eight, a black car picking them up outside the gates of Harry’s house. Harry acts as if everything is fine, staring out the window of his car, the sun on the way down. Louis tries not to watch him because he knows he hates that, if simply because he is aware that Louis has a valid reason for his worries, which is exactly what is actually poking at Harry’s sour-button. In the end, Harry silently slips his fingers between Louis’, squeezing in a painful grip. Louis silently strokes the surface of his hand with his thumb. There is no need for more. 

The night starts at a restaurant in west Hollywood, known to be frequented by celebrities: The Nice Guy. The owner is very aware of their presence this night, and thus also the paparazzi that will later on be waiting outside, crowding outside the entrance. The owner is surely already counting the promo dollars in his head. 

Joining Louis and Harry at the restaurant at a large table in the public area are several people Louis has never encountered, along with Glenne, Jeff’s girlfriend, and Cooper, a casual acquaintance of Harry’s through Jeff and Glenne. The rest are girls: Jeanette, a tall blonde, Aliyah, a mixed-race daughter to someone important in the business, Madison, another daughter to a possible management client, and lastly Violet, who coincidentally also wears her hair in a grey-ish violet colour. Louis blames his teacher traits for his ability to remember their names. He is fairly certain Harry has no clue of what any of them are called, save for Glenne. 

They are loud as they eat and drink, which they are meant to be, naturally. They wouldn’t be sitting in the public area if they weren’t meant to be seen. It’s an awkward business set up, but that doesn’t mean Louis isn’t loud and social, because he knows if they’re going to do this right, then they might as well go all in. Harry is a social little butterfly, and he certainly knows what to do during business hours. This is his job after all, and in spite of his nerves that Louis can still see colouring his cheeks from across the table where he is sitting in between Aliyah and Glenne, he is still bubbling. 

Harry has done this before, Louis knows that, but himself he has never been actively part of a stunt. He knows that Harry’s switch goes off and on when he needs to, and this is one of those moments he obviously needs it on. During stunts where a model needed some promotion he could always leave it off, looking bored half to death in the paparazzi pictures orchestrated to boost the girl in question’s career. Here, tonight, though, everything needs to go off without a hitch, but Louis is sure the nerves are a large part of the reason the on button is extra lit tonight. Still, he doesn’t quite like Harry’s act, because he knows it isn’t real. His best mate isn’t happy to be here. 

They are already consuming several glasses of wine each. To make the night less stiff, Louis prompts a round of awkward storytelling, a thing he has learned through his job makes getting to know new people several times faster and easier. There are a lot of stares at them through different ends of the room, some curious and some coming along with grumbles, but Alberto is also in the nearest corner, and would make sure nobody interrupts them. 

“Right, right,” Violet says from where she is sitting by Louis’ side. “And so then he kisses me, which was… an experience, I guess.” She arches a brow, which makes Louis laugh, because it seriously indicates it wasn’t a good one. “Then he says ‘That was better than I thought a kiss would be’. It was his first kiss!”

All of them fall into fits of giggles, and Louis can tell through the corner of his eye that Harry’s smile is genuine this time, which makes his own lip pull upward even more. Violet is shaking her head, covering her eyes. Her embarrassing story of how a bartender she’d been crushing on for ages at a pub she used to frequent turned out to be the most awkward dude on the planet, and simultaneously thirty-two and unkissed, is one of the best so far. 

Cooper, the only other bloke at the table, snorts. “Who has not been kissed at thirty-two?”

Louis turns to face him. “Not all people like kissing just anybody.”

“But _still_ ,” he whines. 

Louis shouldn’t, be he gets a little agitated. “Maybe he was waiting for the right person.”

“Who does that? Not until you’re thirty, for fuck’s sake. Then you might as well accept that you might have skipped over a lot of people who might have been good enough after all.”

Louis squints. ‘Good enough’ is never gonna be good enough, for some people. Some people actually need it to feel _right_ to actually want it. 

“You know,” he starts, and he can feel it already that if he doesn’t retain himself this could turn into an incredibly long speech he should be holding in front of a crowd that was prepared for it, not a few half-drunkies at a restaurant a night like this. “Sex and sexual acts can actually be a big deal for some people, even kissing. You don’t know if there is a reason he has waited, or whatever his story is. Sexuality is a very complicated thing, and I reckon Violet should be flattered by the fact that he was willing to kiss her.” 

“Okay, okay.” Cooper holds his hands up. “But that doesn’t mean he couldn’t have been better, though.”

Louis crosses his arms. “To be fair, it was his first kiss.”

“But he was thirty-two!” Cooper insists. “It shouldn’t have been _that_ awkward.”

“How was your first kiss then?!” Louis bursts shrilly, which makes the people around the table giggle, if quite fondly. This has the other man throwing them all into an extravagant story of his first kiss as a fourteen year old. Louis nearly shakes his head in disbelief at how pretentiously he tells it, even though he knows the lad is taking the piss. 

His own first kiss was one of the few things that tipped him off that his sexuality might not be exactly like most of everybody else’s. It happened at a small get-together, or whatever you call it when you’re thirteen, and on sugar-highs from fizzy drinks and sweets, rather than drunk on alcohol, and eat crisps and play Spin The Bottle in someone’s room whose parents are downstairs watching telly. 

The feeling of disappointment he felt back then still makes him somewhat sad, because it felt like a balloon deflating inside him. _Was that it?_ he had thought, and he remembers the confusion, the way he had felt his brows knit. His heart had pounded in worry, feeling entirely bewildered. _Was that all? Is that what all the boys had been raving out about?_

To him it was just wet, and weird — uncomfortable. Today he knows what it’s like kissing somebody he has a genuine connection with, but back then it was severely daunting that he couldn’t see what all the fuss was about.

“And then I swooped in, and cradled her in my arms…” Cooper continues, and Louis rolls his eyes. He shakes his head, eyes sliding away and coincidentally landing on Harry. The younger man is already watching him, a small, small private smile on his lips. 

Oh. Yeah. That’s true. 

He smiles back, a gentle tilt of the corner of his mouth.

Among the many, many small things that have helped form their friendship to what it is today, there is one thing that came quite late, yet still feels as one of the more significant ones: he was Harry’s first. 

Kiss, that is. Because… well. There are two reasons why, one a lot more obvious than the other, but. Well. He was Harry’s first kiss.

He still remembers it so clearly, the night before the last few live shows had begun. He had been staying at a hotel not far from the X Factor house, and Harry had called his cell phone late at night, asking to come over. He had been sad, sitting on the edge of Louis’ bed with his head hanging. It took Louis a single minute to elicit the words from his mouth. 

“They were talking about kissing, and stuff. And —” He stopped, cheeks crimson because he knew Louis knew. “Never kissed anyone,” he whispered. He looked up at Louis, eyes wide and wet. “People are calling me a flirt, and I haven’t even been kissed, Louis. How do I live up to that?”

Louis frowned, taking Harry’s hand in his and keeping it there solidly. “You don’t,” he said. “Don’t try to be someone you’re not. You are bloody charmin’ and fucking cute, but you don’t need to be the person they think you are. Just be you.”

“But what if they ask in interviews what my first kiss was like? They asked Aiden yesterday, it’s only a matter of time…” he trailed off, shoulders slumping miserably. 

“Well…” Louis said, brows knitted. Back then Harry was much more sensitive, and much more affected by the smallest of things. Louis could see how much this was weighing on him, the anxiety bubbling somewhere in there. It was such a small thing, but to Harry, who was already suffering from the stress of the competition, it was another heavy thing on the list. Louis didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what he could do to help, except… 

“What sixteen year old hasn’t been kissed?” Harry groaned, falling down on his back, head slumped against the mattress. 

Louis lay down by his side, shoulder to shoulder. “You’re not weird, H,” he said quietly, reassuring. “Loads of people don’t have their first kiss until they’re much older.”

“I don’t want to be one of those people, Lou! I want to be kissed. But… there is just nobody _to_ kiss.” His brows were furrowed, clearly frustrated, and quite honestly looked similar to a disgruntled little kitten. Adorable. 

Louis didn’t know if he was a complete idiot for even thinking along the lines that he was, but he could always suggest it, just in case.

“I mean…” he said, clearing his throat. “We could always fix it.”

Harry’s eyes slid from the ceiling to meet Louis’, confusion in them evident. “How?” he asked, brows knitted as his eyes flickered over Louis’ face, only centimetres away. 

“I could kiss you,” he blurted, voice low but fast. 

Harry seemed to swallow, brows still furrowed. “You’re not feeling sorry for me, are you?” he asked lowly.

“It’s not a pity kiss,” Louis said sternly, voice serious. “I don’t kiss just anyone, you know that.” He took a deep breath. “I mean, I get it if you want it to be with someone real, but I can if you want —”

“Okay,” Harry exhaled. 

Louis stopped with his mouth open, breath stuttering slightly. “Oh. Okay,” he answered, blood pressure spiking. It’s not that he was nervous exactly, but well, maybe a little. Harry was his best mate after all. It could be strange. “Uhm. Alright. H-how you want to…?”

“Just do it.” He looked serious, even though Louis could tell his lungs were slightly more laboured than normal. They were staring at each other, still lying back against the mattress, not much space separating their faces already. 

“Okay,” Louis whispered. Without much ado, his left hand slid up to cup the younger boy’s cheek, thumb landing gently against his cheekbone. He didn’t wait, but simply leaned over and pressed his lips to Harry’s. 

It was sweet, and gentle. Harry’s lips were soft and plump against Louis’, following his movements tenderly. Their lips moved seamlessly, and it didn’t feel awkward. Louis shouldn’t have been surprised, because they’ve been puzzle pieces since they were toddlers.

Louis was Harry’s first kiss. That feeling of trust between them will never go away. 

Harry lets out a small giggle, making Louis roll his eyes from the other side of the table. Harry squints back at him, arching a challenging brow. Louis purses his lips and blows him a quick kiss with small upward nod of his chin, chuckling when Harry winks right back at him. Tosser. 

They spend another hour at the restaurant, plates of fancy dishes eventually removed from the table, but glasses of alcohol remaining. The party around the table seem tipsy already, Harry perhaps even past that. When Glenne leans into Harry’s side, whispering something in his ear, he visibly blanches, eyes instantly flicking to meet Louis’. 

Shit. Okay. Time to go then, presumably. 

They already have an agreement with the owner of The Nice Guy, and they don’t have to sort out the payment of the dinner tonight. Everybody gathers their jackets and belongings, some of the girls stumbling slightly in their heels. They’re all in nice dresses, nothing too revealing, but certainly suggestive of a promising night of clubbing. The inebriation is visible on all of them, and Louis can feel it in himself as well. He hadn’t planned on drinking much tonight, but he supposes he consumed a few more glasses of wine than planned. 

He sidles up with Harry, squeezing his waist quickly, his forearm for a few moments resting against the small of his back. Other than subtly leaning back against his arm, Harry doesn’t react. 

Alberto comes up, telling them to wait a few moments while he gives the paps a warning and gets the driver to pull up. It takes a couple of minutes before they can leave, and in the meanwhile Glenne locks her hands together. 

“Ready to go?” she asks, composed. She exudes a sort business focus that Louis has never seen in her, but then again he has never seen her at work. Harry nods stiffly. “Okay, why don’t Louis and I walk out first, and then the rest of the group. Harry, make sure you’re last and that Aliyah is next to you. Jeff promised her dad…” Alberto nods from the exit. “Louis? Shall we?”

Louis watches Harry swallow and give him a small nod. Louis squeezes his waist one last time, and then follows Glenne toward the exit. 

In the end, it all happens quite quickly. The driver is standing by the door of the van, ready to help them inside, while Alberto is at the exit, keeping an arm out for the handful of paparazzi that are crowding around him. There are only a couple of flashes when Louis and Glenne exit, which is to be expected. They aren't here for them. Louis gives the driver a grateful nod and jumps inside, eyes sliding toward the door where Cooper, Madison, and Violet are stumbling out. Louis thinks he can see one of the paps filming, and he can spot Harry inside, waiting to go out. Aliyah and Jeanette are one either side of him. 

When the three of them step out, the cameras explode. Louis watches with disdain as the paps yell things at Harry, asking him to look their way so they’ll get a better picture. Harry keeps his eyes down, steps quick while Aliyah is a tad too close to seem purely platonic from an outsider. Louis’ eyes are blinking on their own accord, flinching at the strong light even in here, safe in the car. Harry must be blinded out there, and it’s only a handful of paparazzi. The club later tonight will be much worse, certainly. 

The three of them finally jump into the car, and the timespan of Harry walking from the building to the vehicle seems a hundred times longer than Louis’ walk. Harry takes the seat by Louis’ side, squeezing in between him and Violet. They don’t say anything, and soon the car is moving forward, taking them to the next location. It already feels as though there are too many hours to a single night. 

They arrive at the club not too much later. The car ride is filled with drunken chatter from everybody except Harry, Louis and Glenne, who are either too focused on the task at hand, too tense, or filled with concern. Getting inside the club is simply about getting from point A to point B. The order doesn’t matter; they all stumble out of the car in a row and slip inside through the small open aisle made between lines of paparazzi. There are probably fifteen standing there, and there will surely be more by the time they leave. 

They head for the bar, Harry ordering a large vodka drink as soon as they reach the counter. Louis requests a rum and coke, knowing he should slow down if he is gonna be able to take care of Harry later on. His friend seems to be aiming for ending the night as more than a bit tipsy, but as long as he doesn’t get smashed Louis is fairly sure it’s okay. He leaves him be, because even though he is there for moral support he is not going to babysit him. Harry seems to be in his own little world, which is fine as long as he doesn’t start on the vodka redbulls, because those get to his head far too quickly. 

Louis takes a shot with Jeanette, who it turns out has an interest in English football. Louis is pleased with the topic of conversation, and finds himself chatting much longer than he anticipated with her. He keeps half an eye on Harry, but he seems alright with Glenne for the moment. 

People in the club who turn out to be fans come up to Harry, asking for pictures. Normally Alberto would send them on their way before they’ve even approached him, but tonight they are meant to be seen, and Harry takes more pictures than he has in probably a few weeks. Louis joins in on a few, Harry cuddling his drunken, mostly fake, grin into Louis’ cheek, because he is clingy when he has had a few drinks. Tonight, he only seems to smile genuinely when Louis forcibly elicits them from him with too many jokes, more than he would normally pull. He doesn’t feel entirely comfortable with the look in Harry’s eyes. 

It’s nearing 1AM when Louis heads to the dancefloor with Jeanette, Violet, and Cooper. The DJ is smashing some surprisingly good remix of ‘Fireflies’ by Owl City, and Louis has always enjoyed dancing, so he and Jeanette get quite into it. He is warm and his neck damp when they finally head back to the bar. None of the group is where they left them, and the four of them end up on a bit of a hunt. When they find them in a booth, the sight that greets them is not pleasing.

Harry is wasted. Completely gone. His eyes are half-lidded, his mouth ajar, and he is resting against the table with his entire upper body. 

“Shit,” Louis swears. He hurries over, shaking his shoulder. “Harry?” He only gets a small grunt in answer. “Haz?” He shakes a little harder, and the boy leans up somewhat. 

“Lou…” he murmurs. 

“Oh, god,” Louis says under his breath. “How did this happen?” he asks Madison, who is sipping from a straw of a fruity drink.

She shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know. We were taking shots. I didn’t know he doesn’t handle those well.”

“What kind of shots?”

“Tequila.”

For fuck’s sake. Never give an already drunk Harry tequila. It should be in the fucking law. 

“Right.” Shit. “Where is Glenne?”

“Here,” she says from behind him, tucking a phone away in her clutch when Louis turns to face her. “What is going on?”

“This,” Louis groans, gesturing toward his best mate. “He is out of it, almost.”

“Fuck,” Glenne swears, running a frustrated hand through her brown hair. “God, can’t leave you guys for a second, can you.”

Harry clears his throat, but it sounds more like a cough. “Lou, I wanna… Can we go?”

Louis turns to face him again, hand soft on Harry’s arm where he is slumped on the edge of the seat. “Yes, we’re leaving soon. Getting this done, yeah?”

Harry’s brows knit, sadness and reluctance mixing into a single expression on his face. “No.”

“Babe…” Louis tries. “We just gotta do that, then we’ll be home, alright?”

“I’m not doing it,” he slurs. “I’m not. I don’t —”

“H,” Louis says. He knew this would happen, and his heart aches. Glenne gives him a pleading look when he turns to her, and Louis forces himself to try. Harry said it himself: it’s better in the end. “You said this was necessary, right? It’s just walking.”

“No,” Harry says, drunk and determined. “It’s not just walking! I hate walking. My — eyes. Hurts.” He shakes his head vigorously. “No.”

“Okay,” Louis murmurs, and he sinks down, crouching by him. He strokes his thigh, tilting his head to try to catch his eye. “Okay, baby. What if… what if I walk with you?” He gives Glenne a quick questioning look. “What if you walk with me, and Jeanette and Aliyah will just be beside us? Is that okay, Glenne? That could work, right?”

“I suppose it’s better than nothing,” she sighs. 

“You will… be with me?” Harry asks, eyes intense despite how far out he seems.

“Yes, darling.”

Harry’s lids are drooping then, and he doesn’t look too many minutes from passing out. Louis looks up at Glenne dubiously. 

“Are you sure you should send him out like this?” he asks, voice harder.

She gives him helpless look. “We have to. Jeff gave the paps an open call, they’re all waiting.”

“You wanted him to look straight, not like an alcoholic,” Louis mutters sourly to himself. Harry blinks glassily at him. “Okay, Glenne. We should leave now, or he’ll pass out. Get him some water, yeah?”

“Stay here. I’ll be back.”

They get some water in him eventually, but Louis still doesn’t approve of the plan to send him out in the state he is in. The media is already all over this boy, and the photographers getting a good look at him like this won’t make it any better. 

Glenne quickly rounds up the group, establishing how to go about it. Apparently there are more paps than expected outside, and she looks a bit nervous for the first time all night. Louis decides to ignore the small piece of worry bubbling in his gut, and focuses on getting Harry to sober up a bit, or at the very least look more sober than he is. A feat, evidently. 

“Lou,” he whines into his ear when he hoists him up, grip firm around his waist. He is wobbly on his feet, but it appears he can walk somewhat properly, if rather clumsily. 

“Yes?” Louis hums back, making a beeline for the exit where Glenne is waiting with Madison and Cooper. Alberto is right behind Louis, ready to keep him upright if needed. Alberto tried to lift Harry up earlier, which would have made it easier to manoeuvre, but Harry refused going unless Louis were by his side. 

“I don’t want to. Please.”

Louis hates this. 

“I’m sorry, pup. We gotta.”

“I don’t… No, please.” His forehead clashes into Louis’ shoulder, steps reluctant as they near the doors. 

“Glenne,” Louis says, shaking his head at her. “Like this, or not at all.”

“Okay,” she says, finally completely resigning. “Ali, on his other side, and hold on to his elbow. Jeanette, can you be close to Louis’ side, so it doesn’t look like some sort of threesome.”

Louis would snort if it weren’t for Harry huffing into his shoulder, something sounding eerily like small sniffles. Louis grits his teeth, bracing himself. He has never been part of something like this before. He has heard Harry’s stories, his venting sessions, and groans of frustration at the mentions of stunts and pap walks, but living it first hand is different. He worries this isn’t the first time Harry has acted like this during a stunt, and never even having told Louis about it. 

Alberto holds the door open, sending Glenne and the group toward the car. 

“Louis —”

“I’m right here, Harry,” Louis promises. He moves his arm from his waist to clutch the inside of his bicep, keeping him close still, but not as intimate as before. 

“Don’t let go.”

“Pinky promise,” Louis whispers. He sees Alberto wave at them, and then they are off. 

The camera flashes are stronger than theatre lights, striking like lightning. Louis blinks at the flashes, hearing the yells burst out around them into a mess. It takes him a moment before he can even see where he is going, blinking in his momentary blindness. He feels Jeanette by his side tugging at his arm, leading him in the right direction until he can finally see clearly. 

There must be at least thirty-five paps, all of them directing their camera lenses at their faces. Harry’s nails are digging into Louis’ bare skin, forehead pressed firmly into his shoulder, trusting Louis blindly to get him through the mess surrounding them. Louis can see Aliyah by Harry’s side, having a little trouble holding on to Harry who clings with all his might to Louis. He tries to slow down, but Alberto is right behind him, pushing them along in a fast pace to ensure their — Harry’s — safety. 

All in all the walk only takes a maximum of twenty seconds, but it feels like a hundred times longer. His hearing finally comes into focus halfway through the walk, and he is able to distinguish what the paps are actually yelling at them. 

“Harry! Look up!”

“Bro! Over here!”

“Harry! Harry! Who’s the guy? Is that your boyfriend?”

Blurry bewilderment washes over Louis. What?

“Harry, who is he? Harry!”

“Harry! Who is your pal? Styles, bro, is that your lover?!”

Louis is overwhelmed by pure confusion. Why aren’t they asking about the girl that is clutching Harry’s arm? How more blatant can it get? Louis’ arm is joined with Jeanette’s — why aren’t they asking if Harry and Louis are going back to fuck the girls at some hotel? Of course that’s not what is going to actually happen, because Harry doesn’t have a single interest in women, and Louis doesn’t have sex with people he doesn’t have a deep chemistry with, but that is what the paparazzi is _supposed_ to think. 

“Harry! Look up, man! Hey! Is that your partner? Who is he? _Bro_ !”

The door to the van is held open, Cooper, Violet, Madison, and Glenne waiting inside. Aliyah and Jeanette get in, legs shaky on their heels, and Louis follows with Harry in tow as fast as he can manage. He doesn’t have time to even contemplate how to get Harry in, before Alberto is firmly gripping Harry’s waist, and is quite literally lifting him inside. Cooper’s hands reach out, and is with a small push manoeuvring Harry into the last available seat in the middle of leggy blondes. Louis is pretty sure Harry was meant to get in last, for the pap pictures’ benefit, but he doesn’t think it would have been a good idea. Better get him in as soon as possible. 

Louis stumbles on his way inside, blood pumping hotly in his veins. The people surrounding them is making him feel somewhat claustrophobic. The paparazzi are still yelling, and the snapping of their cameras is almost as deafening as the flashes are blinding. Louis is immensely grateful to feel Alberto’s hand on his back, keeping him from falling out of the vehicle, guiding him in. Someone else pulls at his arm, setting him down in the lap of Jeanette, whose hands wind around his waist in a purely friendly manner. 

The flashes from the cameras are still beaming in through the windows, the attention almost too overwhelming. Harry is by his side, heavily intoxicated, and the exhaustion in his bones from not only tonight is evident to Louis. He watches him for a second, and the boy seems positively gone now. For a moment their eyes meet, and Harry inhales in a wracking sob, and subsequently buries his sniffling nose in the crook of Louis’ bare neck. 

It breaks Louis’ heart.

His hand automatically cups his neck, fingers instinctively sifting into the hair at his nape to run at his scalp. He can’t help it; his entire being has been shaped into caring for Harry since he was a child. 

He can feel his warm breath against his skin. It’s like he is hiding away in the crook of his shoulder, trying to get away from it all. Louis leans down, and plants a light kiss to his head, murmuring softly, “We’ll be home soon, H.” He feels him nod languidly, but he doesn’t come up for proper air. 

The car lurches forward — finally — and soon leaves the club and the paparazzi behind. Louis silently exhales in relief, closing his eyes for a second. Jeanette’s arms around him feel comforting, but to be honest, all he wants is to get home to Harry’s and lock them in his bedroom, so they can hide away in his cocoon of a bed for at least a week. The night has been fucking exhausting, and even the thought of Harry having faced nights like this through several years is almost unfathomable. 

They’re dropped off at Harry’s house first, Alberto helping Louis bring Harry inside. He thanks him, but lets him leave after only a few minutes. He manages to manoeuvre Harry into the the bedroom where he lays him on the bed, coming with him when Harry’s grip on his shirt doesn’t relent. 

“H,” he hums, stroking his wrist. “It’s over. It’s done now.”

His shoulders start shaking almost instantly, and small sniffles make muffled sounds from where he is pressed to Louis.

“I hate this,” he sobs all of a sudden. His voice sounds scratchy, and filled with ache. “I don’t want to be a liar,” he cries. 

Louis knows he is drunk, and it makes his words that much more dramatic, yet he knows that this is what Harry truly feels. 

“It’s okay, pup,” he whispers, forcing the corners of his mouth up when they are in reality forcibly pulling in the opposite direction. Don’t make it worse, he tells himself.

“I don’t want to make up things,” Harry wails quietly. “I don’t want to do stunts.” His sobs are getting worse, and even the smallest noises feel too loud in the silent room. 

“I know. And you never have to again, Harry. It’s over now.”

His next words are hell. 

“I’m not straight, Louis. I don’t want them to think I’m straight. I don’t want to lie,” he cries. “I’m gay,” he whispers brokenly. “I’m so fucking gay.”

Louis’ hand moves into Harry’s hair, and he swallows down the knot in his throat. “This was the last time, love,” he gets out throatily. “No more faking stuff. Never again.” 

Never. 

“Yeah?” he sniffles against his throat. 

“Yeah,” he confirms. 

They’re silent again, Harry shuffling closer, his body pressed to Louis’ side. He hugs him back warmly, fingers still scratching at the younger man’s scalp. 

“I hate Jeff,” he hears him mutter after a while, and he must be half asleep. Louis suppresses a chuckle, instead exhaling in exhaustion. For a second he squeezes his eyes closed as hard as he can, taking a solitary moment to vow to himself as he feels Harry breathe heavily against his side: 

Never again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wihoooo, Chapter 3! Soon it all begins!  
> Small note: There is a mention of a newspaper called 'The Depictor' in this chapter, which is a completely made up name, and not based on any real paper. :)
> 
> If you want to see more of me :)  
> tumblr: [isthatyoularry](isthatyoularry.tumblr.com)  
> twitter: [isthatyoularry](https://twitter.com/isthatyoularry)
> 
> Also, [here](http://isthatyoularry.tumblr.com/post/132722510124/california-sold-chapters-2-author) is a post on tumblr you can reblog reblog if you'd like! xx

Louis wakes up earlier than Harry the morning after the stunt. His back protests loudly when he rolls back from where he is curled around the other boy’s sleeping body. His shoulders land on the mattress, and an unpleasant snapping shakes through his joints. He groans softly, scratching the back of his head. His mouth tastes like rotting alcohol, and his teeth are furry against his tongue. 

Last night was shit. Proper fucked up. 

A normal night out for Louis means getting wasted, dancing into the AM, and leaving in a black taxi while trying not to pass out in the backseat. A normal night out does not entail forty paps shouting in his face, and his best mate having a meltdown. 

His right arm is still tucked under Harry’s body, numb from the pressure of his weight. They’re still in the same clothes as when they arrived home, and everything around them reeks of alcohol and sweat. Harry smells disgusting, to be completely frank. Louis will tell him that, too, once he wakes up. Which might take a couple of hours. The other man is still out like a light, shoulders rising and falling with deep inhales and heavy exhales. He probably needs all the extra hours of rest he can get, considering how rough things have been for him these last months. Louis won’t wake him up, despite the plethora of questions that are nibbling on his insides. 

Something in him twists at the thought of Harry’s behaviour the previous night. He knows Harry’s journey has been largely unsmooth the last few weeks, and he fears that this wasn’t a solitary incident. Letting off steam by getting high or drunk is one thing, but getting so smashed he can’t stand up unsupported during a stunt is another. Maybe Louis is overreacting, but he is worried. He even uncomfortably contemplates asking Alberto, but it feels like that would be going behind Harry’s back. He is his best mate, not a parent. 

The curtains to the bed are pulled up, and the vague sunlight from outside is beaming in through the large windows and the balcony door. Louis sighs, and leans over, without removing his arm, toward the nightstand where his phone seems to be perched. It’s only eight, and there’s a text message waiting from his mum. She is asking if the flight to America went alright, and there’s another where she requests he gets Harry to FaceTime her later. He tosses his phone away to the end of the bed, figuring he should go take a shower. His contact lenses are itching like a bitch, too.

Harry stirs when Louis removes his arm, sliding it out from beneath him. He doesn’t wake up entirely, and Louis leaves him, ambling toward the bathroom. He finds lavender coloured towels waiting on a pretty shelf, the softness of the material as he picks one making him hum softly. His own back home need to be replaced, honestly. He turns on the shower, letting the water fall to the nicely done tile for a few minutes while he brushes his teeth, rubbing the stench from his mouth away. 

The bathroom is spacious. The shower is large, and he could probably attempt a handstand in there if he so desired — which he doesn’t, gymnastics of any sort isn’t really his thing — the mirror is round and clean, reflecting green tile from the walls, that matches the dark brown tile floor perfectly. The colour scheme is interesting in this house, to say the least, but Harry has always had quite eclectic tastes. 

Somewhere in between rubbing shampoo against his scalp and washing it out, Louis hears the door open and somebody falling to their knees by the toilet. He winces before he has even heard the retching noises, pressing his eyes shut under the spray.

“Mate,” he hums eventually, when there is a pause in the noises of Harry’s insides turning upside down. “You okay?”

“No,” comes a coarse sound back.

Louis can’t see him properly. The glass separating them is steamy, and his eyesight is already fuzzy without contacts or glasses. He rinses the shampoo and soap off his body, before shutting the water off. He steps out, fetching the purple towel off the counter by the sink and dries himself off, ensuring his hair isn’t dripping on the soft rug on the floor. When he opens his eyes, he finds Harry leaning over the toilet, shirtless, but still in his fancy striped trousers. Those are probably expensive. His stylist would surely freak if she knew they’d been slept in. 

Harry slowly blinks back at him as he lowers the towel, tying it around his waist. His eyes are red-rimmed, and his face is puffy just like it always gets after he goes out drinking. Louis doesn’t say anything as he moves to the sink, where he finds his case of contacts in his vanity bag. He picks a pair, and puts them in as Harry’s stomach heaves once more. He represses a shudder. He has never been squeamish, but he doesn’t like the sound. Harry’s throat must be burning. He takes a seat on the stool in the corner when Harry’s stomach starts to lurch again. 

“You know, this is what you get for drinking yourself stupid,” he comments quietly. 

Harry turns his head, and gives him a dark look. Louis doesn’t say anything more, and Harry closes the toilet lid, flushing. He stands on unsteady feet, beginning to unbutton his trousers, his long hair tangled and falling around his face. Louis watches as he grips the nearest edge of a counter, kicking them off and his pants with them. 

Those laurels tattooed on the skin by his hipbones look entirely obscene. 

Harry turns around and steps into the shower, his small bum wiggling with each step. Louis pulls a knee to his chest, the towel stretching around his thighs. The shower turns on a moment later, and the warm water is soon steaming up the glass once more.

“How are you feeling?” Louis asks after a while. He can see his silhouette through the misty shower walls.

“Like utter shit,” Harry mutters. 

Louis hesitates for just a second. “Does this happen often?” he asks, trying to sound amiable. He doesn’t want him to think he is judging him. Harry knows what he means; the reckless drinking, the crying.

“Not really,” he hears him reply mutedly after a few seconds. 

Louis inhales deeply, chest tightening. “You’re twenty-two years old, H. I hope you don’t rely on Alberto saving you every night.”

It’s silent for about two seconds, and then Harry’s words are angrily breaking through the sound of the water running.

“I’m not some careless, out of control pop star,” he says hotly, clearly annoyed. “You know better than to think that.”

Louis’ shoulders slump. “I didn’t mean that. It all just kind of… scared me,” he admits.

“Louis,” Harry groans. “I promise, last night was just a one-time thing. I only drank because I knew you were there. I guess it got a bit much, and I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you being there.”

Louis sighs. “It’s okay, pup. I’m just worrying, as per usual.” He frowns. “I just don’t get why you’ve never told me it’s this bad?”

“Because it isn’t that bad!”

“But — yes, it is!” Louis calls out. “Have you got blackouts, or something? Because you cried Harry, begging for all of this to stop.”

“Because — ‘cause — it was only last night! Because of the stunt.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not lying!”

“Yes, you are, Harry,” Louis says, voice steely. “Don’t be a fuckhead with me.”

There’s a small moment of silence, and then Harry is muttering, stubborn as usual, “Not lying.”

“Fuck’s sake, Harry!”

The shower door opens with bang then, and Harry is sticking his head out, hair suddy with shampoo. His eyes lock on Louis, still red from the previous night, bulging as he exclaims in frustration.

“Okay, fucking hell. I haven’t told you because you worry! And you would fly out here in a second! I didn’t want to pull you from your things. My life is a mess right now, and I didn’t want to bring you into it. You’ve got your things, like the teaching gig, and I didn’t want to fuck that up.” He inhales loudly. “Yes, it’s been like that a few times, maybe four, or five. No more, Lou.”

“Haz,” Louis groans. “Going is my decision. You call, and I will fucking come. That is up to me, and not you. And anyway, like, you called on Monday, so I don’t get —”

“Because I knew your thing would be over soon!” Harry squeezes his eyes together, pressing his lips shut. 

Louis stands up, walking over. “Bottom line, Harry,” he says, face centimetres from his, staring up at his closed his eyes. “You needed me.”

Harry keeps his lips firmly pressed, bottom lip jutting out a bit. He doesn’t say anything, but he opens his eyes, and they stare at one another for a long minute, both of them equally as stubborn. It’s such a pointless fight, because neither of them is going to budge. Their fights have always been like that: stubborn. Louis supposes their entire relationship could be described with that one word. They’re too stubborn to let things get between them, they’re too stubborn to surrender in fights that they’re too stubborn not to have, and they are too stubborn to not be best mates. It’s a good stubborn, most of the time. It’s got nothing to do with pride, though. They’d both chuck that in a second if it meant being as emotionally close as possible.

Harry’s phone starts buzzing from the bedroom, grinding loudly against the wood of the nightstand. Neither of them moves. There is shampoo sliding down Harry’s skin, dangerously close to his eye.

“Can you get that?” the taller boy grits out reluctantly.

“No.” 

Harry squints. Louis brushes the shampoo off his eyebrow, and rubs it off his finger against Harry’s lips. 

“I hate you,” he retorts, trying to speak without getting it in his mouth. 

“You love me.” 

“Do not.”

“You’re a fish stick.”

The phone keeps buzzing. When it dies out it only takes a couple of seconds before it starts again. 

“Answer the phone.”

“No.”

“It’s Jeff’s ringtone. Please.”

Louis gives him a sour look, before giving in. He stalks into the bedroom and fetches the device, flicking his damp fringe over his forehead as he places it against his ear.

“Hello.”

“… Louis?”

“Yes? What’s up?”

Jeff’s words are rushed then. “I’m on my way over. Get Harry up, we need to talk _now_.” 

“He’s in the shower. Wait, what’s going on?” Louis wonders, brows knitting. 

“We fucked up. Holy shit, you wouldn’t… believe. I’m over in ten, I hope Harry is sober.”

With that he ends the call, and Louis is left staring at the phone in confusion. What exactly is going on? Jeff has never sounded like that, at least Louis has never heard that poorly hidden hint of hysteria coming from the man before. He hesitantly walks back into the bathroom, where Harry is just stepping out of the shower, wet hair dripping down his back. 

“H…” he begins, “something is going on. Jeff is coming over.”

Harry turns around, looking at him with furrowed brows. “What do you mean? Why is he coming?”

“He didn’t say. He said we ‘fucked up’.” Louis swallows. 

Harry’s mouth opens, and then closes. Louis can tell that he is as confounded as him. Louis turns around, making a beeline for his suitcase to get dressed. His hair is still damp and slightly cold against his forehead, his skin prickling. He doesn’t like fighting with Harry, and Jeff’s words worry him. Something happened, and it probably has to do with the stunt last night. Louis thought it all would be over now, that everything would finally be calm for a while, but as it seems there must be a glitch somewhere. 

He slides on a pair of pants and grey sweats, grabbing a dark blue jumper that he slips over his head as he goes downstairs, heading for the kitchen. The Los Angeles sun is poking its way into the room through the windows, a soft light spreading out over the kitchen table. It’s early, but it’s probably warm enough already for a breakfast on the patio. That’s the sort of thing Louis thought they would be doing once he got here; relax by the pool, and rub out some of the stress from the other boy’s shoulders. Instead they are fighting, and doing PR work.

He supposes he shouldn’t have expected everything falling into place just because he got here. It’s just, it has never been this bad before. 

He yawns as he prepares the coffee maker, then remains staring wistfully as the black little droplets land in the pot. He hopes whatever this situation Jeff is worried about can be fixed quickly, and it isn’t actually as big of a deal as he made it feel like. He doesn’t know the man well enough to know if he has a tendency to be dramatic, but he has a sinking feeling that as a music manager with a PR alignment he doesn’t use the words ‘fucked up’ in the context of work too lightly. 

Harry comes down to the kitchen after a few minutes, hair damp. He’s in sweats and large socks, a t-shirt covering his chest. He sidles up with Louis and opens one of the cupboards, from which he brings out two coffee mugs. The one he sets in front of Louis is yellow with an actual penis painted on. Louis remembers when Harry bought it, sending him a picture and eagerly explaining that he’d been to an art exhibition that had appurtenant merchandise. Still, Louis gives the boy a sidelong glance. This is his passive aggressive way of calling Louis a dick. Childish, and adorable. Idiot. 

They wait in silence for the coffee pot to fill, watching the black drops land in the dark liquid. The smell makes Louis want to close his eyes and cuddle up in a duvet in front of the telly, preferably with a curly headed loser by his side. He almost forgets that Jeff is coming over, until suddenly Harry’s house alarm system goes off, telling them there’s someone on his property. Jeff is probably already entering the gates, and Louis is too tired for business. 

Harry sighs and exits the kitchen, the alarm soon cutting off. Louis turns off the coffee maker, filling up their mugs and pouring some milk into Harry’s. The boy can’t stand it completely black. He heads toward the living room, the front door a stop on the way. Jeff is already in the hall, toeing off his shoes when Louis enters. The man is in jeans and a blue t-shirt, looking tense. Louis tries not to ponder what is going on.

Instead, he hands Harry his coffee, and heads into the living room, making a beeline for the far corner of the sofa. There’s a blanket waiting, calling his name. 

Jeff enters not much later, iPad in his hand, followed by Harry. The younger man sits down a bit away from Louis, to his left, with a sullen look on his face. Louis suspects business meetings lately haven’t been smooth. Jeff sits on the edge of the sofa, starting to type on his iPad. Louis gets impatient soon enough, clearing his throat. 

“Mate, what’s going on?” he sighs. 

Jeff looks up for a short second, before he turns back to the device in his hand. Louis resists the urge to roll his eyes. Jeff has never listened to him much. Louis likes Glenne more. 

“Jefe, come on,” Harry urges. “I’m not in the mood. Please, just say what’s going on.”

“Right,” he says under his breath, inhaling deeply. “We’ve got a problem. A big one.”

“Can you just say what it is?” Louis asks in annoyance. 

“See for yourselves.” He extends the iPad, Louis taking it and holding it between him and Harry. At first he doesn’t quite grasp what it is, but then he realises that it’s not just one news article, but a whole list of headlines from several gossip articles from various sites. The nature of every single one makes his jaw drop.

__

Caught in the act: Harry Styles gets snuggly with mystery man!

__

Harry Styles Leaves Club On The Arm of Unknown Male

__

Harry Styles Stumbles Out of Night Club With A Man

__

Harry Styles Cozies Up To Male Friend 

__

_  
_

They only get raunchier. 

__

Exclusive: Drunk Harry Styles caught getting frisky with a man!

__

HARRY STYLES’ DRUNKEN HOOKUP WITH A MAN

__

Harry Styles’ One Night Stand — With A Man

__

Harry Styles Out Of Control! Leaves club off his face with a man!

__

PICTURE EXCLUSIVE: HARRY STYLES’ HOT NIGHT OUT WITH MALE DATE

__

_  
_

Louis blinks in incredulousness. Harry doesn’t say a word by his side, but Louis can feel that he is barely breathing. 

The first word that comes to mind is _absurd_. This is absurd. Blown out of proportion, entirely. How they are even allowed to make up blatant lies like these is beyond Louis. He closes his eyes, shaking his head once. What the fuck did he just read?

He clears his throat, turning to Jeff and genuinely asking, “What the fuck is this?”

“That,” he says, “is the result of your little snuggle of a pap walk.”

“How was any of that romantic?” Louis asks, brows knitted in frustration. He puts his mug down on the table. “There were girls surrounding us.”

Jeff doesn’t say anything — instead he takes the iPad back and starts scrolling. He hands it over again, and this time there are pictures on the screen. The first one is of them as they’re exiting the club. Jeanette is in her blue dress, a couple of steps ahead, and then comes Louis, with Harry tucked into his side like he is actually physically attached to him. His face is buried in the curve of Louis’ neck, hands clinging to his bicep as if he can’t breathe without him. It can’t even be passed off as a whisper; it’s obvious he is tucking his face into his neck to hide.

The pictures continue, practically a slideshow of their walk to the car. Every picture makes it more obvious how Harry is relying on Louis to get him to the vehicle. Louis can see why people would say he was all over him, because Aliyah is falling behind, nowhere near Harry, while Jeanette is barely holding onto Louis for more than a few pictures. It’s as clear as a day how close Louis and Harry are. 

The angle of the pictures changes, and now they are inside the car. The photographs are clearly taken through a window, but it’s entirely visible how Harry is cuddled to Louis, hands in his lap, nose buried in his neck, Louis’ hand in his hair… Kissing his head.

This is bad. Really bad.

“He was drunk,” Louis says weakly. “It was this, or nothing.”

His entire stomach is sinking. 

Last night he told Harry it would be worth it, walking into that mob of paparazzi, but it clearly wasn’t. It made it worse. Glenne had even said it before they left the club: ‘Jeanette, can you be close to Louis’ side, so it doesn’t look like some sort of threesome.’ It doesn’t seem to have mattered in the end.

Louis feels a small bubble of panic in his chest start to expand. This is not good; this made the current situation so much worse for Harry. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. 

“Why,” he stutters, “Why are they allowed to write this? Why are they saying this?”

“Because they’ve got the pictures —”

“So, retract the pictures then!” he exclaims shrilly. 

“We can’t. It was an open call,” Jeff explains. 

“Then sue them, or something! Isn’t that what you Americans do?”

“We have no grounds for that, Louis. We don’t own all the pictures from the club. It was an open pap call, we didn’t hire any of them. The night was meant to go viral.” He covers his eyes with his hand. “Shit. Can’t believe she let you walk out together. She knows what you two look like.”

“You’re not mad at her, right?” Harry croaks, speaking up for the first time. “It wasn’t her fault.”

Louis swallows. He feels nauseous. “It was my idea. And Harry was wasted, he wouldn’t have wanted to leave unless I did it with him.”

“Don’t be mad at her, please.”

Jeff crosses his arms, slumping against the back of the sofa. “Let’s just focus on how to fix this, and not on what we can’t change.” He rubs at his temple. “Right, do we release a rep statement that you’re not a couple?” he says, probably to himself.

“But wouldn’t that just draw attention to the situation? I mean, if there is nothing to hide then why comment at all?” Louis protests. 

“You can’t just ignore it if it’s this big,” Jeff sighs. “If we don’t deny it, people will think we want them speculate. We have to act in one manner or the other.”

“But won’t they take that as a confirmation that he isn’t straight if you only address the issue about us?” Louis frowns. “They ask if we’re dating, and you say no. They ask if he is gay, and you say no comment? That does not seem to work in making him look straight, mate.”

“Well, what do you suggest then? The entire night was completely counterproductive to what we’ve been working for the last couple of weeks. We need to quench this instantly.”

“Just tell them I’m his best friend. Fans already know that, and —” 

“It won’t be enough to kill it,” Jeff interrupts. “If there is situation after situation where Harry appears gay, a small denial won’t work. That’s a ‘two steps forward, one step back’ highway to a coming out. We’re not nearly close enough in the timeline.”

Louis shakes his head, blowing out his cheeks as he places his hands on his hips. Fucking _timeline_. “How long have we got?”

“Three months.”

“Christ, how in the world are you gonna keep it under wraps for three months?” he says incredulously. “You've got to do something radical.”

“That’s what last night was!” Jeff says, just as exasperated. Louis has a feeling the lad doesn’t particularly enjoy having business conversations with him. He doesn’t know much, and questions a whole lot. “But we fucked up, alright? So, now we have to think of something new. The media is fucking losing it. All the tabloids are running rampant speculating about you two. We have to do something, or they will probably out you themselves.”

“They don’t have anything that could out me,” Harry says, quiet but certain. “I’m sure of it.”

Jeff gives him a glance. “I know. There’s nothing concrete. But we have to shut this down before it spreads any further.”

“No more stunts,” Harry says decisively, throat sore. “I am not doing it. I’m not going to lie anymore. Plus… my therapist says it’s not good for me.”

Louis looks up, mouth falling open. That little — He shuts his mouth, staring angrily at his best mate. Why the fuck did Harry agree in the first place if his shrink told him not to? He swears, Harry has no self-preservation whatsoever. The boy gives him a pleading look, silently begging him not say anything right now. Louis loves him too much for his own _goddamned_ best. 

Jeff leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, head in his hands, eyes wide and staring across the room. Louis takes the iPad, scrolling through the article that the photos are attached in. The bottom lines make something inside him twist. 

_At any rate, Harry Styles seems to be heading in one direction: out. Out of the closet that is. Whether or not that is with a handsome, protective male on his arm remains to be seen. As long as he isn’t drooling over bandmate Liam Payne, the world will probably live. If barely._

The entire paragraph makes his skin crawl. He would drag this writer via Twitter, but that would certainly not help the situation. The underlying homophobia, and the pure uncouthness and complete trashiness of the entire article makes him livid. 

“‘As long as he isn’t drooling over bandmate Liam Payne’,” he mocks in an irate voice under his breath. “What the fuck is this?”

“Louis, put that away,” Harry sighs, running a tired hand through his long hair, combing it back. Louis looks up and meets his eyes, and they both find themselves locked in a heavy gaze. Neither of them is making any sort of particular expression, but they remain fixed on each other. For once, Louis can’t tell what Harry is thinking, but he senses that he might just be exhausted by all of this. He shouldn’t even bring up the fight they had earlier after this impromptu meeting is done. Harry doesn’t need more to worry about.

“Hold on — remember when you were doing promo for Nadine Leopold?” Jeff says, interrupting them in the middle of their intense gaze. Louis breaks it, looking over to Jeff and finding him with brightly lit eyes. He instantly feels wary. “All speculation of you and Liam after that show in Dublin subsided _so_ quickly.”

Louis remembers that show. Harry and his bandmate Liam had accidentally brushed their mouths together during a concert when they were about to whisper into each other’s ears. The media had gone wild, suggesting that Harry fancied his bandmate. It was right after Harry had started to become more obvious in his gay coding. Media had been hot on his heels then, speculating wildly about his romantic male interests. Vaguely suggesting that Harry was dating a blonde model seemed to do the trick.

“What do you mean?” Louis asks cautiously. 

“Well… ” He clears his throat, looking at them almost sheepishly. Louis stares back in confusion, brows knitted. Jeff takes the electronic device and scrolls up to the bright pink headline of the article. ‘ _EXTRA: Drunk Harry Styles CAUGHT getting snuggly with MALE DATE as he leaves nightclub at 1:30am_ ’. It takes Louis a minute or so before it starts to settle in what Jeff is suggesting. 

His mouth falls open just a fraction. His head is blank. There’s not even an initial feeling there; he’s simply stunned.

Oh. 

Oh, dear. 

His eyes flicker to Harry, who looks almost shell-shocked. 

“What,” Harry whispers. 

“It’s not ideal,” Jeff says quickly, holding his hands up, “but it’s making the best of a possibly disastrous situation. See, this way there will be someone the media can focus on, instead of spreading fictitious rumours about every man you interact with.”

“I thought he was supposed to look straight!” Louis exclaims, shock fisted firmly around every bone in him. “Are you insane?” he exhales. 

“Look,” Jeff says, voice eerily calm all of a sudden. “People already think he is gay. Using you to put the image of the two of you being a couple out can help us calm things down. The fans know that you are only friends, so they won’t go into cardiac arrest. We won’t state that you are a couple, we will just put the idea out there, which the media has already done for us. You’re not going to be kissing or anything, but if we keep you by Harry’s side until the right moment is here, we will for sure lessen the chances of the tabloids running stories of Harry with other men. They will write stories of Harry being seen with Louis, possible love interest, and not about other random males he looked at once. Although,” he adds, “we obviously won’t put you in a setting that will encourage those kind of stories, Harry.”

The room feels too quiet, and the sinking feeling in Louis’ chest feels like something equivalent to being dragged to the bottom of the ocean. 

Because it makes sense. Fuck, but it does. Only… 

“We’re not doing it. You saw how the pap outing went last night. No, no more stunts.” Louis shakes his head. 

“We won’t be doing anything like that,” Jeff says. “Maybe a few pap outings, but no more wildcards like that. It was a stupid idea. We will make sure to control the stories next time.”

“You said we wouldn’t —” Louis begins.

“We can work it off social media, to begin with,” Jeff interrupts, sounding too fucking bright. “There is a lot to work with, Twitter, Instagram… Glenne is working with Snapchat at the moment on something. We can totally do that…” He seems to get lost in his own thoughts at that, as if everything is already falling into place in his head. He knows he found something to toy with that might work for them, and might even work well.

Louis finds himself speechless, slumping back against the couch. He doesn’t know what to do. He has no idea if any of this will work, and fuck, he has never been involved in any of this PR shit before. He is a teacher for God’s sake. 

“H-how are you even sure it will work? Louis has been my best mate for years. He is in X Factor footage from my audition — no way is anyone going to believe it.”

“They will, Harry. They will jump at anything they’re given, because you’re hot right now. Louis has been a vague enough shadow in your life until now, so no one but your most intense fans know of him, really. And, you know, even if the papers don’t jump on it, there are always ways to make them. I will drop them hints if necessary, or even strike up some deals.” He bites his lip, as if something else hits him. Louis grits his teeth together; Jeff is having a fucking field day with his brand spanking new PR scheme. “I might as well get a deal with The Depictor,” the man hums. “If they write what we want until the album release they can have the coming out story, right? The more respectable papers will follow their lead.”

“No,” Harry says suddenly, louder than he’s been through the entire meeting, protesting. “That’s mine! I’m doing that my way, and you were gonna handle the aftermath however you wanted. That was the deal.”

Jeff stares at him for a few seconds. “Even if it means the tabloids ruin it? Because I can guarantee you that it might not even be yours anymore by then. It will be up for grabs, and already put out in bits and pieces. You read that article just now — they are blatantly saying you’re going to come out already. You’re not a little boyband from The X Factor anymore, Harry. You’re the biggest act in the world. You’ve got two stadium tours across the world, two Super Bowl performances, three amazing albums, and two Grammy’s under your belt. This is the big world where you can’t leave things up to chance.”

Louis feels almost breathless, completely drained of reactions. This is unfathomable, and so bloody overwhelming. Harry’s lip is _this_ close to wobbling. Jeff is usually a nice guy, one of Harry’s most reliable friends, but business-Jeff can be fucking unbearable. He takes after his father, the old Irv himself. That is as clear as a sky on a summer day. 

“I’ll fucking sue you,” Harry whispers, which is a fucking ridiculous thing to say. Typically Harry, though, bringing out the dramatics. Suing is probably not even feasible, either, but the hurt and pure, plain and simple yet burning objection is so excruciatingly poignant. Louis’ skin prickles. 

Jeff stares back at Harry, his friend and client. He looks back at Harry’s blotchy, teary, and simultaneously stone-cold face. Louis doesn’t dare make a sound. The tension is a thin line. When Jeff speaks, he does so quietly.

“Whatever way you like… if the magazine of my choosing get the full interview afterward. You can’t do it through any other paper, or through pap pictures. The exclusive ‘behind the scenes’ story goes to who I pick. I’ll give you social media in a controlled manner. That’s it.”

Harry doesn’t say anything, only keeps staring, and Louis doesn’t know how somebody can look so cold, yet distraught at the same time. He stares until Jeff falters, sighing and shaking his head. 

“We’ll just… We’ll talk about this later, Harry. No need to decide everything right now. Okay, man?”

This is obviously a subject they have fought about many times before. Louis feels like he is trapped in a glass container, watching as his best friend duelling on a minefield. When Harry gives the tiniest and stiffest of nods, it’s as though the container shatters entirely, and he can breathe again. It doesn’t even occur to him until then that they are already speaking in terms of the fake romance between him and Harry being settled and sorted. 

“Hold on,” he says, both of the other men’s eyes falling on him. “We haven’t even decided if we’re doing this.” 

Jeff entwines his fingers, placing them in his lap as he looks at him. “Louis. It’s the best for the situation.”

Louis stares back, and then bluntly says, “Can you leave?” He arches his brows. “So we can talk? Alone?”

He shakes his head. “Fine. Just know that you are _helping_ him by doing this.” He stands and leaves the room, taking the iPad with him. He is already dialling on his phone, though, surely about to fill his team, or whoever, in on the progress. 

Harry and Louis remain sitting on the sofa in a corner each. The silence is heavy between them. Louis doesn’t know how to describe it, because there has never been a silence between them like this. It’s heavy, both of them entirely overwhelmed. 

Jeff Azoff is devious. He is devious, and he is a manipulative fucking arse, because he knows Louis would walk to hell and back for Harry. He is also one of the best music managers in the business, his father none other than Irving Azoff, and he knows what he is doing. Louis isn’t afraid to admit that he hates him a little bit sometimes. 

“Harry, I don’t even know what to say,” he sighs, turning to look at him where he is covering his face in his hands. “If you want to, I’ll do it.”

“But it’s not fair,” he moans into his hands. “You didn’t ask for any of this.”

“No, but neither did you.”

Harry looks up, blowing his cheeks out. He meets Louis’ eyes. “What’re our mums gonna say?”

Louis snorts. “They’ll say they can’t even see a difference.”

Harry chuckles, shaking his head, and Louis joins him quietly. Their mums have always treated one another as though they’re family. Louis is sure they wouldn’t mind making it legal, too.

“You said no more lies, though,” Louis whispers, moving over on the sofa until he is by Harry’s side, hand landing on his thigh and squeezing affectionately. 

“I know,” he whispers back, looking up from beneath his lashes, green eyes looking strikingly clear for the first time since Louis arrived in Los Angeles. “But… it will be with you. Being with you isn’t lying.”

Louis gives him a soft smile, patting his leg. “Maybe you should consult your bandmates, too.”

Harry scoffs. “Jeff will do that.” He shakes his head, curls brushing Louis’ jaw. “He owes me. And I fuckin’ hate him a bit right now.”

Louis snorts, shaking his head. “Everybody hates Jeff sometimes, babe. Even Glenne.”

“Hate him most,” he mutters.

Louis laces his arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug and burying his face in the curls at the side of his head. Harry follows easily, slipping his hands around Louis’ waist and squeezing warmly. 

“You know I love you, right?” Louis murmurs into his curls. He smells like shampoo. 

Harry groans softly into his arm. “I know, you twat.”

Louis smiles tiredly into his hair, and closes his eyes for a small second. So. They’re really going to do this then. Pretend to date each other. It’s… not going to be a hardship relationship wise, he doesn’t think. Harry is lovely, and Louis doesn’t have a problem with people thinking they are a couple. To be quite honest, the two of them have gotten that question, if they were dating, before when they were younger. And, yeah, Louis would absolutely date Harry, if it weren’t for the fact that they’ve been soulmates since they were toddlers. 

He doesn’t mind people thinking they’re together, but there will obviously be a lot of attention on the two of them. The media is already going entirely nuts. Louis hasn’t checked on his Twitter account, not that he normally does, but he is sure there are more than a few messages by fans waiting for him. It tends to be that way, whenever Harry mentions him, which is fairly rare. He’s been quite modest about their friendship to the public — and nobody actually really cares all that much about Louis, despite his number of followers on Twitter — and Louis doesn’t think even Harry’s most intense fans know how deep their friendship runs. 

(Harry is in his bone marrow. That’s how deep Harry fits inside him. Sometimes Louis thinks he’s got a few Harry-cells in him, and maybe there are a couple of his in Harry, too.) 

Practically speaking, however, this stunt probably means Louis will be away from home longer than intended. He will have to get his sister, Lottie, or his mum to check up on the flat and get him his bills somehow. This way he doesn’t have to worry about finding a new job yet, though, which is a relief. He’s been struggling a fair bit with finding something new after his few months of subbing. There doesn’t seem to be a lot of positions open at the moment, and he needed something else during summer break anyway. He’s got some money saved up, although rent will be the same even if the remaining bills will be low for the coming months. That he should have brought more clothes, is the thought that sticks with him as he contemplates. He wonders if his suitcases carry enough for three months. 

“What are you thinking about?” Harry whispers, lips brushing Louis’ shirt. 

“I didn’t bring enough stuff.”

“We’ll go get you some,” he reassures instantly.

“I don’t have enough money to get a lot of things right now —”

Harry sits up properly, face only centimetres away. He opens his mouth, a pleading look already in his eyes. “Let me,” he says softly. 

Louis sighs, eyes falling to Harry’s nose. “I don’t know, Harry…” 

The thing is, gifts are fine. If Harry spontaneously wants to spoil him a little then that’s okay. They don’t see each other nearly enough during the year for it to be frequent thing. But clothes and other necessities are things Louis should be able to provide for himself. 

“Please. It’s my fault you’re here,” Harry begs. 

Louis frowns as he watches Harry worrying his lip, looking at him with puppy eyes.

“Okay,” he agrees. “I have enough things for now, but if it’ll be necessary we can sort it out then. And don’t think I won’t use your washing machine way more than is good for the environment.”

Harry mocks a gasp. “I resent that!”

Louis chuckles, pushing a hand against his shoulder. “Keep away from me.”

Jeff comes into the room before Harry can retaliate, arching a brow. “Good. You’re already getting into your roles.” 

If it’s meant to be a joke, it falls flat, because as soon as he enters the room Louis feels reality coming clashing back once more. They are going to be pretending they are an actual couple. Louis doesn’t even remember what to do in a relationship. He can remember how safe he felt and how comforting it was having someone who loved him for him, but he doesn’t remember how to _act_ around someone who he is supposed to be in love with. He’s been in love once in his life, and it only lasted a couple of months. How to act comes naturally, and he isn’t sure if he will be able to pull it off actively trying. It would be harder if it were anybody but Harry, though, because everything with Harry feels easier than it does with anyone. People already believe they have a thing, too, thanks to the papers. They already have a push in the right direction. 

“What?” Harry hums, poking his shoulder. 

Louis meets his eyes. “I don’t know how to look like I’m in love,” he shrugs, speaking low enough that only Harry can hear him. 

“But we’re not going have to be that obvious,” he says quietly. “You’re just gonna be around me a lot. Which…” he smiles coyly, “I’m kind of looking forward to.”

Louis smiles back softly. “That’s true.”

“Right,” Jeff interrupts, gaining their attention. “I talked to the team, and we’ve decided to release a statement saying you were simply out with very good friends last night.”

Louis blinks. 

“Is that it?” Harry asks dubiously. 

“People can take it in whichever way they want. Your fans will perceive it as the confirmation that you are only friends, and papers can interpret the wording in whatever way they like. We’re gonna come up with a few things to sway the attention off you, okay? We’re gonna release a few of those clips we filmed of you guys talking about the album, and maybe that snippet of when you wrote ‘Olivia’ with John and Julian. I’ll try get hold of Niall if possible, and maybe we can get him to post some party pictures. If necessary we’ll get on with the breakup rumours between Liam and Sophia.”

It sounds like a lot to Louis, but he supposes Jeff knows best. Harry doesn’t say anything either, seeming resigned for now. 

Jeff nods, more to himself than anyone else, and continues, “I need to head off. Don’t worry about the plans for now, I’ll tell you when we’ve got anything planned. We still have to consult the label, but you should fill in the people who necessarily need to know, because I don’t think it will be too long until things will be pushed into motion.” 

They both nod as they watch Jeff head toward the hall, mumbling goodbyes once he calls out and opens the front door. Louis can faintly hear when it closes, and all traces of the slightest energy seem to leave the room. The coffee in their mugs has gone cold, standing deserted on the coffee table. 

“My head hurts,” Harry mumbles from where he is still tucked to Louis’ side. All of this is exhausting, and Harry is still hungover, both of them deprived of sleep. It’s still early, and as far as Louis knows they have nothing planned for the day. It doesn't feel like either of them wants to discuss this right now. 

“Should we go back to sleep?” Louis asks, stroking his side.

“Yeah.” Harry places a soft kiss to Louis’ ear, before he stands from the sofa. 

They head upstairs after a pit stop in the kitchen, fetching some Advil for Harry’s head. Crawling into bed, Harry pulls the duvet over his shoulders, and Louis finds himself curling himself around him, hooking his arm around his waist. He smells like warmth and boy. Louis can’t even remember what his (only) ex-boyfriend smells like anymore. 

After several more hours of sleep, they both wake up to multiple messages waiting on Harry’s phone. It seems the label has approved of Jeff’s plans. 

“Were you hoping they wouldn’t go along with it?” Louis asks Harry after a moment of contemplation as they are in the kitchen the same afternoon, rifting through the fridge for something to eat. 

Harry shrugs. “I don’t know. I think I’m just going to trust Jeff.”

Louis closes the fridge, turning to eye him where he is leaning against the sink. He is running a hand through his hair, blinking languidly. Louis wonders if he is too exhausted to care more at this point. Even if he fights Jeff on certain matters, he still has faith in him when it comes to other. Louis doesn’t make any further comments, instead walks over and places his hands on his shoulders, sighing. Harry looks up, skin pale, and there are bags under his eyes. 

“Can you make me pizza?” he asks, giving him a little smile. 

Harry rolls his eyes, but he can probably tell Louis is just trying to distract him. “I _can_ ,” he retorts, and leans forward to lightly headbutt him. Louis leans away, and scrunches his nose. “Even if we had it not long ago. By the way, Jeff said to tell you to tweet something again. Just, something to tell the fans we’re hanging out.”

“Fine,” Louis says, squeezing Harry’s arms before letting his own fall to his sides, shrugging. He ticks his head to the side, giving Harry a smirk. “I’ll tweet about the pizza.”

Harry smiles back, and then proceeds to put music on through the speakers, and fetches a fat cookbook from a shelf above the freezer. Pizza making is a classic at the Tomlinsons, and Harry is more than used to being the actual chef at the house. 

“What would you do without me?” he winks. 

The following day the press isn’t looking better. More papers and websites have pulled up articles, and it’s still a trending topic on Twitter. Louis was not expecting the frenzy to cease in a day, especially with how tame the denial Jeff issued this morning was, but he isn’t pleased. If anything, the headlines have changed from blatantly stating Harry was leaving a nightclub to screw a man, to something more of an inquiry: Did Harry Styles hookup with ‘close’ male pal? 

Louis isn’t impressed. 

His Twitter account has gained a few thousand followers, his mentions have shot through the roof since his tweet the previous afternoon, and more than half seem to be demanding an explanation, a denial, or something of the sort. Louis exited the app after only a minute. Jeff didn’t name-drop him in the representative statement to the press, but it surely won’t take long for the media to lurk their way through the fandom’s social media platforms to find it out — if they are devoted enough, which they certainly are. It’s just a matter of time. Louis has already received a few strings of text messages from friends, either teasing or joking about the story running wild in the press back home in England. He has already explained everything to Lottie, his sister, and his mum took the news with a sympathetic smile as Harry told her over FaceTime, directly after having enlightened his own parents. 

Harry has a meeting with one of the high-end brands of which he endorses products this day, and along with his assistant and personal stylist, Louis is coming with. Louis doesn’t recall which brand, nor the names of the two women joining them, but he feels a bit excited about leaving the house for the first time since the prosecution of the stunt. Hopefully they’ll be able to slip in and out of the store they are heading to unseen. Harry’s assistant is picking them up along with Alberto, and his stylist will be meeting them at the site. It all feels very covert, which Louis isn’t necessarily opposed to. He has always liked sneaky agent movies — he always wishes he had one of those devices like Will Smith in _Men In Black_. He enjoys the thought for a minute, until he remembers that Harry _has_ to live covertly in his spare time to be able to _live_ at all. It’s not as amusing after that. 

Louis, dressed in his standard black skinny jeans and a white thin t-shirt, follows Harry down the driveway to the gate where the car taking them is waiting. Harry twirls a set of keys in his large hand as he walks, strutting with a little sway to his hips. He looks good hiding behind his Ray Bans, a simple black button down on — obviously unbuttoned to where his butterfly tattoo on the middle of his stomach is lewdly poking out — curls freely falling down his shoulders. He’s humming on a song, which might actually be one of his own band’s unreleased creations, and he throws a glance behind him at Louis. His smile is sober, moderate, but it’s there, and that’s all Louis cares about for the moment. 

“Have you missed the sun?” he asks as they slip out of the gate. 

“I’ll have you know summer has actually been quite pleasant back home,” he replies haughtily. 

Harry snorts, and then proceeds to open the door to the car, holding it open. “You don’t look especially tan, dear.”

“Fuck off, you vampire,” Louis grits out. 

Harry snickers, and proceeds to shuffle inside the vehicle. Louis follows him, closing the door behind him. The windows are tinted, and the interior is clean in a creamy colour. The woman who must be Harry’s assistant is sitting behind the wheel, turning around to smile pleasantly. Her hair is dark brown, almost a bit reddish, and her eyes are icily blue. She must be past thirty-five, and her slightly round figure reminds Louis much of his own mother. 

“Hello, dear,” she greets Harry, smiling warmly. “Hi, Louis.”

“Hey,” he greets back, an awkward pause following. “Sorry, this is rude. I don’t quite recall your name?” he admits sheepishly. 

“It’s okay,” she chuckles, continuing in her clearly British accent, sounding extremely natively Londoner. “We haven’t actually met properly. I’m Esme Tate.”

“Oh. Nice to meet you.” 

Harry gives him a look, clearly suggesting he has either been told her name on several occasions, or he has actually encountered her through some sort of brief virtual meeting over the Internet. _Sorry_ , he mouths, shrugging. Harry rolls his eyes. 

Alberto is sitting in the front passenger seat, giving them a soft nod before Esme starts the engine again, heading down the street to exit the residential. The ride doesn’t take too long, and Esme drops them off right outside the store, before speeding away to find a parking spot, joining them in only a few minutes. Alberto hurries them inside, the street filled with people, and it would simply be better if Harry weren’t spotted. Jeff had told them to lay low for the time being. 

They meet Harry’s stylist at the store. Her name is Sam Pierce — Louis makes sure to check with Harry before they step inside the building. Apparently the meeting is with Gucci, and Sam is waiting with the store manager and a man that seems to be responsible for the product endorsement deals. If the two of them spend a second longer lingering on Louis’ face after shaking his hand, he ignores that. The ‘news’ has reached everyone, it seems. 

They’re led to a private dressing room area, away from the rest of the store. There are several racks of clothing articles pulled out already, all of them waiting for Harry to try on. There are two comfortable looking sofas in red leather in front of two large dressing rooms, long matching red drapes as walls. The rest of the room is clean, and looks elegant. There is a table with beverages, even glasses of what seems to be champagne. They are certainly pulling out all the stops for this. Harry must be an important client to them. Louis shouldn’t be surprised. 

The store manager starts presenting the clothes to Sam and Harry, explaining what collections they are in, what the different articles are made of, and what the inspiration and intents behind them are. Louis takes a seat on the couch after only a few minutes, meanwhile Harry looks genuinely interested. It seems none of the clothing articles are even available to the public until the coming year, and that Harry doesn’t even have to pay for this shit, but rather _gets_ paid to wear it seems quite absurd to Louis, as a currently unemployed twenty-four year old. It’s how it works, though. Louis needs to get on Harry’s case about Vans. Or Adidas. 

Eventually Harry starts to actually try on the clothes. He dresses in trousers with patterns, bomber jackets, shirts with flowers, and surprisingly many with strings to tie around the neck. He looks incredible in all of it, of course. Louis downs three coffees in forty-five minutes. 

“D’you like this one?” Harry wonders, spinning around as he has just finished buttoning a shirt. He makes jazz hands, jutting his hips out and swaying dorkily.

“It suits you,” Sam answers promptly. “You could definitely do with a few silk button downs. It’s dressed up, yet casual. Perfect for TV appearances.”

Harry smiles, eyes meeting Louis’. He had been addressing him. 

“Yeah,” Louis nods, smirking. “Perfect.”

Harry nods him over, and he walks up, raising a brow when Harry closes the heavy drapes around them. He starts unbuttoning the shirt, a tiny wrinkle forming between his brows as he focuses on the buttons. 

“Have I lost weight?” he murmurs quietly, words only intended for Louis. 

Louis’ eyes slide down Harry’s chest, worrying his lip as he takes in his upper body. It’s true, he looks a bit slimmer around his sides, hip bones somewhat more prominent. 

“Maybe,” he says, looking up again. “Not a lot.”

“D’you think people notice it? Esme said I looked good.” He squirms, clearly uncomfortable with the prospect of that being the reason. 

“No.” Louis shakes his head determinedly. “It’s not that obvious. You just look a bit brighter today, is all.”

He looks at him dubiously. “D’you think so?”

“Yeah, I do.” He bumps his tummy with his knuckles. “Do you want something to drink? That isn’t champagne,” he adds with a quirk of his lip. 

“Are you getting bored?”

“Not bored…” He just gets restless easily. 

Harry snorts. “It’s okay. Take Alberto with you, and you can go buy some water. There’s a small shop down the street, I think.”

Louis smiles back, and then narrows his eyes at the other man. “For the record, I am very displeased with the lack of leopard pattern on these clothes.”

He slides the curtain to the side, slipping out and informing Alberto of their quest, as Harry calls after him, “I’ll put that forward!”

They head out, exiting through the main entrance. The shop Harry mentioned isn’t too far away, though the streets are quite busy. The small shop is rather full, too. Louis spots a fridge with drinks by the large magazine stand, and walks over, surveying the multiple options of water. He isn’t too fond of sparkling, and Harry doesn’t like flavoured. He isn’t sure what Alberto prefers. 

“Sparkling, or normal?”

“Sparkling. Thanks.”

He nods and takes three bottles, turning around, and is about to head to the check out, but he accidentally bumps into a woman behind him. 

“Oops,” he says. “Sorry, mate.”

She looks like she is about tell him not to worry about it, when she stills, eyes flicking across his face. He takes an awkward step back, before he realises that she recognises him. Her eyes flicker from his face to the magazine stand, and back again. 

“That you?” she asks, realisation starting to settle on her face. 

His eyes follow the direction of the magazines, landing on a particular picture on the front page of People. Harry and him in the car, Harry buried in his neck, Louis’ fingers in his hair, his face in focus of the camera lens.

“No,” he says, backing away just Alberto places a hand on his back. A guy behind the girl has caught interest of the situation, and before Louis knows it Alberto is taking the bottles of water from his hands, is placing them on a shelf, and they’re out of the shop only moments later. 

“We shouldn’t have gone inside. I didn’t think they’d actually recognise you, but considering you were standing right next to the papers…”

He probably wouldn’t have been noticed, either, if he hadn’t bumped into that girl. Louis tries not to consider how widespread the story must be, that people across the globe probably have seen him cuddling Harry close. He knew Harry was famous, but… He didn’t think he was famous enough for _him_ to get recognised. Yikes. 

_Yikes._

If Jeff thought they could keep this low key then Louis is almost certain that is going to be one hell of a job.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Sorry for taking ages to update, but it's been quite the busy month! This chapter is a bit shorter than the previous ones, but I hope you will forgive me. Hope you are all having a wonderful Christmas if you celebrate it, and if you don't, I'm hoping your day is just as lovely. Happy Christmas, much love xx

It’s been a week since Louis arrived in L.A. It’s Friday morning, ten o’clock. With a yawn he stretches out on the large bed, where he is already splayed out in the middle. His own back home doesn’t allow him to impersonate a star without his fist knocking into a wall or a leg ending up in the air, off the furniture, but the bed in the room Harry has given him is more than up for it. Louis hasn’t even unpacked, simply moved his suitcases, and he has still spent more time in Harry’s bed than this one. After being apart, sleeping by Harry’s side is probably the most soothing, and he is certain his best mate feels the same. 

He doesn’t think Harry is up quite yet, and Louis probably would have slept longer, too, if it weren’t for his bladder, full and pressing against his prostate, causing him to sport a large fucking boner. Because, yes, despite being on the asexual spectrum he does get hard. It’s biology. It just doesn’t happen through lust on its own. 

He has caught pals wanking off before — he has a scarring image of Stan, still hovering like Satan in the back of his head — and he has heard their moans or groans, or _whatever_ , as they get rid of their problems, but for him it’s not like that. For him, it’s the quick, clinical, _getting it out of the way_ way. He knows it can be nice, and even giving someone a handjob can be quite pleasant, if it’s the right someone. But without that someone to bring the actual pleasure from it out, rubbing one out is pointless and boring. Sticky fingers and a disgusting chest is not nice, and neither is it ‘worth it’. He almost shudders. So _not_ worth it. 

He gets up and heads into the shower, and then proceeds to get it over with under the warm spray. The water washes the come off him instantly, his shoulders sagging. Maybe one day he will find someone to enjoy this with. It’s beginning to feel a bit hopeless, to be entirely honest. His mum keeps saying love will happen when he least expects it, but after two and half years of nothing he can’t be blamed for being a bit pessimistic. If it does happen in the next few months it will have to wait, though.

He hadn’t even thought of that until this point. Wow. He presumes he can’t actively try to see people for the time being. He isn’t typically active on the dating scene, but it isn’t like he doesn’t meet people. He supposes it’s fine. It’s not as though he will have any sexual urges in need to get rid of while the stunt lasts. He hopes any potential futuristic boyfriend isn’t American, and won’t be popping up out of nowhere before September. 

He gets dressed; jeans, t-shirt, a pair of sunnies hanging from the neckline. He skips the socks, as the Californian warmth is hell at the moment, and opts to roll his jeans up his ankles, enough to let half his spider web tattoo peek out on his shin. 

The past week has been a bit… not dull exactly, but ‘laying low’ doesn’t entail the most exciting of adventures. According to Jeff, who checks in every other day with updates, the media is as expected still hot on the story, and tabloids and magazines are perpetually asking questions. Since the statement Harry’s reps issued last week - which didn’t give much information to the public at all - the speculations about Harry’s ‘very close friend’ have spiralled in all sorts of directions, and Louis has now acquired several new identities. There is the secret boyfriend, and the random mystery one-night stand. Also the very platonic _friend_ , the _close_ friend ‘wink-wink’, the rare cousin, and lastly the ‘friend who might actually starting to become more?’, which is a thought apparently often attained by a particular, large group of fans. 

The activity in Louis’ Twitter mentions is still quite aggressive, despite laying low since the tweet about their pizza dinner last week. Normally Louis’ mentions would cease in a day or two after a quick mention by Harry somewhere, but this time the fans don’t relent. They are still seeking some sort of confirmation or denial, none of which Louis can give. He always used to ridicule the press on Harry’s behalf - when he was able to - and now Harry’s fans seem to be confounded, especially when Louis is part of the story. 

Even if he, for some inexplicable reason, would want to ruin Harry’s new coming out tactic, he couldn’t, because his social media has been invaded by Harry’s social media manager this past week. She doesn’t tweet anything, but will be double-checking that what he writes will fit the narrative they are trying to sell to the public and the fandom at the moment. Harry says she usually doesn’t intervene much, and since Louis isn’t terribly active on the platform he isn’t especially bothered.

This past week he has learned just how much celebrities’ social media accounts are not for personal use. Sure, some of it, but it is first and foremost to sell an image. Harry’s Twitter account has been clean since the stunt, there have only been a few birthday wishes to fans, the same going for his Instagram. It only reinforces how much he is not commenting on the past weekend’s activities. 

While ‘Harry Styles takes friends out for a flashy night out in West Hollywood’ is still a popular topic, laying low this week has meant less pictures of Harry to spread on top of magazine covers along with raunchy headlines. As Harry’s band is the biggest act in probably the whole world at the moment, there are fans pretty much anywhere carrying cell phones, and laying low has entailed spending twenty-four hours a day on Harry’s property. 

Today, though, Louis is ready to actually get out and do something. For the first time since they visited the Gucci store with Esme and Sam, Harry has actual plans. Yes, being plan-less and free is rather fantastic, but when Harry is supposed to stay out of sight they have been spending too many days being almost unhealthily lazy. Today, however, they are going out. 

Louis bounds down the hall, heading to Harry’s room. He is thinking they’ll eat brunch out before they head to the studio Harry is meant to be meeting the producers of his band’s album at, and he specifically remembers that Soho House has a very strict no-photographs rule. Fantastic.

He flings Harry’s door open, and skips over to the bed. The lavender curtains are drawn, closing Harry in in a perfect cocoon. Louis grabs hold of the soft material, and drags the curtains open. 

“Rise and shi —” 

“Lou!” Harry shrieks in panic. 

Louis squawks, spinning around faster than a lightning bolt, shock almost jolting him. He blinks rapidly over his bulging eyes. “I am so sorry,” he squeaks, eyes almost popping out of their sockets. “I’ll just… Shit.” He slaps a hand over his eyes, pulling the drapes closed behind him, and runs out of the room in two seconds. “Oh my god,” he breathes, rubbing a hand over his face and nearly tripping as he hurries down the stairs. 

He reaches the kitchen, where he downs two glasses of water before coming to a stance by the sink. Right. He sets his hands on his hips, blowing his cheeks out. Seems like he wasn’t the only one waking up to a problem this morning. Christ. 

He just caught Harry rubbing out, and, surprisingly, for the first time throughout their entire twenty years of friendship. Right. He shakes his head. Images away. Shoo.

While he waits for Harry to… finish, he types out a few WhatsApp messages to friends back home. He has explained to them that he will be gone longer than expected, and his mother is already trying to arrange for his sister to eventually come out to America for a bit, because ‘it’s such a wonderful opportunity!’, and she has sent him a couple of potential dates. Louis has only been here for a week, and he has no idea what _the situation_ will be like once his sister arrives. He will discuss it with Harry later on. 

When Harry finally comes downstairs, he is showered and dressed. His hair is mostly dry, curls bouncy by his shoulders, a greenish-yellow patterned shirt on his chest. He is in tight white jeans, clinging to his legs and arse like liquid. 

Louis’ mouth apparently functions without the consultation of his brain. “Where the hell did your giant cock go?”

Harry’s eyes widen as he approaches Louis, who is leaning against the kitchen worktop, and his entire neck is soon flaming, cheeks coloured perfectly in pure red. Louis almost knocks himself in the head. Jesus. Why in the world did he say _that_ within the same hour he saw Harry working himself into a sweat, biting his bottom lip, neck arched… _Yikes_. Images. Away!

Harry clears his throat, looking away with a pink blush on the apples of his cheeks. “I thought it looked better this way,” he says, not meeting Louis’ eyes. “There’s not much… room in these jeans.”

“That’s because they’re for women,” Louis explains. “You know, minimal crotch area.” He glances down. “Did you tuck it?”

“Shut up,” Harry hisses, but Louis can see the glint of mirth in his eyes. Now, why are they talking about this?

“Are you ready to get going?” he digresses. “Because I am so ready to try my hands on a wheel that’s on the wrong side of the car. Right-hand traffic, here I come.”

“You know,” Harry says, pursing his lips. The blush on his cheeks is still visible. “Maybe I should drive.”

“But —”

“I’ll drive.”

“Can you even sit down comfortably?” Louis mutters once they eventually get into Harry’s Range Rover, the least conspicuous of his cars. Well, the Benz would have worked better, actually, but it’s back home in London. 

Harry doesn’t say anything, and when Louis looks at him as he drives off his property, he realises it’s because Harry is biting his lip, and his cheeks are still burning. And, Louis doesn’t know why exactly his face is flushed again, but he can presume Harry might feel a bit self-conscious about someone catching him in the nude. The thing is, they talk about everything, except sex. And that is simply for the reason that they don’t _have_ a reason to talk about it. Louis doesn’t have sex, doesn’t like sex most of the time, and Harry. Well. 

“You know I don’t care, yeah?” Louis murmurs after a couple of minutes of silence, just wanting to make sure. 

“Louis, just — don’t mention it,” Harry breathes, and Louis can see his face still flaming in crimson from the corner of his eye. 

“Okay,” he complies. 

The rest of the drive is a bit quiet, but they arrive at Soho House quickly enough. Harry parks across the street, and they head inside after a couple of glances around the street. 

Now, Louis isn’t actually a member at Soho House, but it doesn’t seem to be a problem when Harry is, well, Harry. They take the lift up to the roof garden, picking one of the few smaller tables by the railing made of glass. The garden is beautiful, and the view of West Hollywood is gorgeous. Harry sits down with his back against the rest of the restaurant, facing the view, while Louis takes the seat in front of him. 

“I’m having a full English,” he quickly decides after a survey of the brunch menu. “What about you?”

“Quesadilla thingie,” he hums. 

They get a waiter eventually, who takes their orders with a trained grin on his face. If he recognises Harry, he doesn’t show it, and is equally as polite and friendly to Louis, maybe even more so. There is a smirk on his face as he writes down their orders, and he gives him an extra look before leaving. Louis squints as the younger man walks away, and then redirects his gaze when Harry speaks up. 

“He was flirting with you.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “He was making sure he wasn’t making the superstar’s date feel inferior.”

Harry scoffs. “I’ve been here four times just this month. He doesn’t care about me.” He shakes his head, running a hand back through his long hair. “He was flirting.”

“Well, I don’t like him,” Louis mutters. “Besides,” he adds, now smirking at Harry. “I have a boyfriend now, don’t I? One would think that he would be a little less pleased by young waiters vying for my attention.”

Harry chuckles. “I, as a boyfriend, wouldn’t care, knowing that I’d have you in my bed at the end of the day anyway.”

Louis purses his lips. “No, you wouldn’t.”

Harry watches him for a short moment. “Not even boyfriends?” he asks quietly. 

Louis gives him a pointed look. “How many boyfriends have I had, H?”

“Right,” he nods. He clears his throat, glancing away casually. “Did you and Elliott ever…?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs. He thinks Harry actually knows this, even if Louis never explicitly said it. “Yeah, I was fuckin’ head over heels for him before he moved away.”

He doesn’t know why they are talking about it, but he is over it. Since the breakup, after which Louis spent about three hours crying to Harry through FaceTime, they haven’t discussed it thoroughly. Harry doesn’t say more, only slides his sunnies from hair to cover his eyes. The sun is quite strong today, Louis can feel it warming his neck. 

“You still…?” he tentatively asks.

“Yep.” Harry answers far louder than a normal conversation requires, popping the P unnecessarily and looking away. A few young women a couple of tables away look up — trust fund kids, probably — and their eyes widen when they realise it’s Harry disturbing their brunch. 

Harry shifts his head back to Louis, the way his shoulders sag showcasing just how much he is regretting making that obnoxious noise. Louis arches a brow at him, grinning down at the breadsticks in the basket between them. 

“Your own fault.”

Harry makes a small groan. “Hope they don’t recognise you.”

Right. Fake boyfriend, and all that. 

“Well, if they come over I am leaving the talking to you.”

Their food arrives shortly after, smelling incredibly. Louis’ stomach growls as if on cue, and he almost reaches for the plate to yank it from the waiter’s hands. He contains himself, and gives a brief smile to the young man in thanks as he sets the plate down before him. He digs in the moment he is gone, moaning in pleasure. 

A fork that isn’t his own appears in his food a few minutes into eating, and he bats it away with his own. 

“Stop it,” he demands without looking up, shovelling hash browns into his mouth. 

“Please.”

“Stop. It.”

The fork steals part of his egg. 

Louis glares up at Harry, who unapologetically grins back at him.

“It’s been years, and you never learn.” He shakes his head. Harry quickly steals another piece, this time of his sausage. “Stop it! Come on, man.”

Harry giggles, and Louis glares. Child. 

Harry sticks his fork out and Louis fights him off, squawking when Harry kicks his shin under the table to throw him off. To their right he hears the girls laugh, and they both look over to find the group watching them. 

Harry sighs, and Louis puts his cutlery down, eyeing the remains of his dish. Harry still has half his quesadilla left. 

“Eat your food,” he mutters, and Harry grins smugly from across the table.

While they finish up the girls continue to giggle, occasionally laughing loudly and quickly turning away when Louis looks over at their table. It reminds him of school, when the girls would childishly whisper to themselves as soon as the pretty boy in class would enter the room.

“Jesus,” he breathes when one of them is genuinely pointing at them. “How do you fucking stand this?” He turns his head, and glares straight into her eyes. She has the decency to at least blush, and Louis shakes his head. “I wouldn’t make it a day without snapping.”

“Yes, you would,” Harry protests, snorting. “You’re kind. You would be patient, I know that.”

Louis makes a non-committed noise, digging into the remains of his eggs and beans. He grunts in response as Harry mumbles tediously about how it simply comes with the lifestyle. Louis makes a comment about aquarium fishes, and that Harry shouldn’t be treated as one simply because he is in a boyband. He is a person after all. 

“I love you,” Harry says all of a sudden, after several minutes of silence.

Louis looks up, grinning unabashedly with his mouth full. “I know.”

Harry nods, a small upward tilt to his mouth, before he looks away once more. He looks so posh like that, like a proper celebrity; from the colourful shirt unbuttoned to his butterfly tattoo, the long unruly curls, the sunnies covering his eyes, to the lazy, comfortable posture, demeanour so confident yet casual. Louis finds himself quietly admiring the man Harry has grown into, fork poking through his beans. He has his faults, sure, but Harry is one of the few people Louis truly admires.

They leave at noon, Harry handing over his debit card with a look at Louis that tells him to keep fucking quiet, and in turn making him roll his eyes. The brunch wasn’t _too_ bad, it would have been fine. 

Harry presses a hand to his back as they exit the restaurant, ushering him toward the lift. They’re a bit late for picking up Alberto before they head to the studio, and if there are fans waiting outside they will be even shorter on time. Apparently studio time costs a shitload of money, and Harry’s label aren’t fond of wasted figures.

They manage to slip out unseen by anyone who could potentially be a fan, and end up picking Alberto up only a while later, after Harry surely drives ‘a bit’ faster than what is legally allowed. 

“We don’t have time for pictures,” the man says, when they approach the building of the studio and see the bundle of fans waiting. Harry once told Louis that there were certain people that got paid by his management on a few occasions to show up specific places to take pictures with him. Apparently it creates the illusion that a fan can actually be friends with the band, considering it’s the same gang of fans that meet them each time the management so desires. Louis resorts to calling them stalkers, even though they technically aren’t. 

“You’ll have to do it afterward,” Alberto decides. He turns to Louis. “While I walk with Harry, just slip past the fans. I was told it wasn’t too big of a deal if you were seen, but try to just smile politely if someone says anything to you. Keep slightly behind me.”

Louis nods. It’s only been about a week since the failed stunt, and the tabloids will surely start writing again if any pictures are taken of him with Harry. Nevertheless, the new stunt, fauxmance, whatever you want to call it, will have to begin somewhere. 

Harry stops the car outside the gate of the barriers surrounding the building. Alberto decides he’ll get Harry inside, and Louis can simply follow behind. There aren’t enough fans for an actual mob, but after the dramatics of the previous week the band’s security team prefer to have Harry with his bodyguard at all times for the time being. Harry usually doesn’t bring Alberto to simple studio sessions, as the matter is quite simply just getting in and out, and normally the place is void of fans who don’t know when or where he will actually be there. 

Harry hands Louis the keys, and Alberto exits the vehicle, shutting the door after him. Harry follows quickly, Alberto keeping an arm hovered around him instantly. The fans’ excitement can be heard loudly once he opens the door. 

“Hi, Harry!” they all exclaim in a happy chorus, mobile phones already extended in their hands. They step toward him instantly, pleading eyes all on him. Louis watches for a few seconds, and then slips out, locking the car with the key. 

“Sorry, guys. Sorry, I’m in a rush.” Harry apologises as Louis steps around the car, though Louis is seriously sceptic about his reasons for apologising in the first place. Instead of snorting and drawing attention to himself, he keeps his head down and trudges around the car, tugging his snapback down his forehead. 

Harry is holding up a hand, excusing himself as he works past the small crowd, Alberto by his side. The bodyguard throws a glance behind him, discreetly waving Louis forward to the gate. Harry slips inside, and then Louis takes several fast steps forward from where he’d just stepped around the hood of the car, easily sneaking past the crowd, and ducking in under Alberto’s arm. Once inside the gates, hidden mostly behind the large bushes, he hears the hush of whispers and small squeaks as the crowd realises Harry isn’t alone. He follows Harry inside the building, Alberto soon behind them. 

They’re greeted by a receptionist inside, the same one letting them in through the gates once alerted of their arrival. He smiles happily, greeting Harry with a sense of familiarity that tells Louis he must of have encountered him on several previous occasions. 

Before they head to the studio, Julian Bunetta and John Ryan already waiting — they’re fifteen minutes late — Alberto retrieves the keys from Louis to move Harry’s car. Inside there is no need for a bodyguard, and Louis reckons they’ll see Alberto in a few hours when it’s time to head back home. He has accompanied Harry to studio sessions twice before, both in London — the first time when he was recording for the last album, the second one about a year ago, Harry writing for the coming one — and he knows there is a lot of lag time to be spent. As there are only months left until the album is coming out, most of the recordings for the songs is completed, and they are only back in the studio for production reasons today. 

A music studio has always been quite beautiful to Louis. There is the large table with just buttons to press and pull, the heavy glass walls to watch the artist sing to the fullest of their ability through, and, in most fancy studios, the rich interior and expensive wood and couches. There is just something about it that is comforting, just like a classroom in some ways, although it’s a different feeling of being at ease. In a classroom Louis feels like he has found his true place in life, meanwhile a studio makes him want to light a cigarette and sip on a whiskey. (He doesn't actually enjoy whiskey.)

Being a musician has always been a distant dream of his, like every child dreams of being singers, actors, or simply famous. Getting to see the hidden parts of the profession much coveted by many, including his younger self, has always been a secret pleasure of his. There is just something embarrassingly fulfilling about it, and he savours every moment he gets to be here with Harry. Fame is something people always seem to dream of, and Louis, like everybody else, has had his momentary daydreams. He gets to see it now after Harry's run on The X Factor, and a fair share of it is awfully alluring.

Although, despite everything, but also because of everything he has seen, he is entirely pleased with what dream he chose to chase. He knows Harry made the correct one, too, in spite of everything that comes with the lifestyle, speaking as Harry earlier decided to express himself. 

Seeing Harry work at the studio is always intense. He looks at home, completely engrossed in his work. He is so passionate, fighting with Julian on the final production of a song he wrote with both him and John. Louis almost laughs at Harry, his arguments endless for why the trumpets are vital for a certain part of the song. Julian is not convinced. 

There are a couple of pictures of Harry and Louis entering and exiting the studio online later that day. Arriving there are only blurry ones, none of the fans having realised Louis was present until it was too late for a proper picture. Leaving a few hours later, Louis’ stomach almost screaming for substance, the fans still there are more than prepared. Several pictures of Louis slipping into the car are posted, along with the selfies Harry graciously spent almost ten minutes taking. Harry’s management and PR team must have known he would end up online, and that ‘no big deal’ comment feels more as an encouragement in hindsight. However, the romance has to begin somewhere. 

By the time they have dropped Alberto off, the first pictures of Harry and Louis entering the studio have been up for hours, and there is a Twitter trend up consisting solely of Harry’s name. The trend is filled with the pictures from the day, and Louis is once again reminded of how large the fandom of Harry’s band is. The smallest thing and it’s one of the biggest matters online in the world for the day. 

“You know what we haven’t done yet,” Harry says as they leave Alberto’s home. 

“What?” Louis questions. There are lots of things. He adjusts his shades under his snapback, hand on his tummy. “Eaten in days?” Harry snorts, and Louis lifts a haughty hand. “Just because you get so devoured by your work you don’t have normal senses anymore, it doesn’t mean my stomach can handle the same treatment. You’re a terrible host.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I was going to say we haven’t been to the beach.”

Louis looks up, excitement already filling his chest. “Really? You want to go?”

“Yep. Let’s stop on the way home. Haven’t had a proper stroll in a while.”

A smile spreads on Louis’ face. “I need dinner, though,” he insists. “My stomach is going to eat itself.”

They decide to stop at a local shop on the way. Harry stays inside while Louis goes in, fetching a basket and filling it with whatever one would need for a potential beach picnic. He grabs some fruit, crackers, and cheese, and by the time he gets a bottle of wine it is beginning to resemble a proper romantic starter kit. For good measure he gets them plastic wine glasses and a cheap blanket to sit on. He passes the magazine stand, only sparing the tabloids a glance. It is still strange seeing his own face next to Harry’s on there. The pictures from last week are still making it onto the front pages. 

By the time he gets back into the car, Harry looks at him with arched brows. “Did you actually buy a picnic basket? Did they have _everything_ in there?”

“Yes, I did. We’re doing this right. I have never had a picnic on a beach, and I am entirely ready for this. Now drive, munchkin.”

Harry shakes his head, but looks helplessly endeared anyway as he puts the car in drive. The ride to the beach only takes fifteen minutes, yet it reminds Louis of when Harry invited him over to America last year, and they went down to Florida. They rented a car in the north, and then drove from Jacksonville, through Daytona Beach, and then west to Orlando. Beaches, partying, and picnics were daily activities for that week and a half. The summer warmth, the car radio, and the pretty L.A. evening makes him feel like he were back in Florida, singing along to John Mayer and Queen as they drove.

Once they arrive, the parking lot is fairly empty, which is a relief. Louis who has been working on fitting all of their things in the basket, while simultaneously stifling his tummy by chewing on crackers, tucks the blanket under his arm and lets Harry take care of the basket. 

Louis smiles as their feet touch sand, instantly yanking his shoes off and moaning as he feels the still warm sand between his toes. Beside him Harry copies, and Louis sees his content grin as soon as his feet touch the sand. 

“Race ya to the water!” Harry exclaims, and then he is taking off, basket left on the beach. Louis, seconds late, drops his things and sprints after him, laughing as he catches up. 

He reaches him by the shoreline, arms catching over his shoulders as he clings to his back. Harry grips his upper arms to keep him against him, and bends over, making Louis’ feet leave the ground. He starts toward the water, making him yell in protest.

“Harry!”

“What? Don’t you know how to swim, mate?” Harry’s feet touch the water, Louis’ dangling decimetres above. He shrieks in protest as he begins to lower him, shaking him slightly to loosen his grip on Harry’s shoulders.

“Stop it! Or I’ll make sure both of us end up wet!”

“Thought you didn’t do that,” Harry laughs, and Louis cackles loudly right in his ear. They keep laughing, until eventually Harry has to let Louis go, lest he actually drops him into the water. Louis hisses as his feet touch the lukewarm ocean. It is slightly too cold for his taste. He is a proper bath coward, Harry perpetually tells him. 

Harry grins back at him, impish and cheeky, sunnies dangling from his neckline. “Haven’t been here in ages. Always too crowded.”

He looks pretty, young and free. Louis’ wants to devour the bottle of wine, but Harry by the water is quite possibly the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. 

“Come on.” 

He nods to his right, and they start strolling along the shoreline. The sand clings to their wet feet, itching between Louis’ toes. They stroll, the evening still warm and the wind gentle, talking about trivial things, letting silence stretch on for long patches of time. It is so nice; Harry’s presence makes everything nice. His friendship is so different to every last one of Louis’. With his other friends it’s all about talking loudest, ruthless teasing and banter, about being cheeky and taking risks, being funny.

With Harry it’s different. There is no need for pretence when it comes to any part of him. He doesn’t have to bite his tongue, and he can say whatever he wants. He can complain about his life without judgement, he can go on a fifteen minute rant about social justice and LGBT rights, and say that he fucking despises being _touched_ by anyone who doesn’t have his complete trust. He can say nothing, and Harry will always make him feel like that was exactly what he needed. Harry is what he needs to feel _right_.

“Do you think it will be okay?” Louis asks Harry, sipping on his wine as the sun starts dwindling at the horizon. They’ve returned to their belongings, and spread the blanket out on the sand. 

“What?”

“Dating me.”

Harry answers with a slow nod, mumbling quietly. “I do…? I know it’s weird, seeing as it will be my big coming out to the world. That only happens once, yeah? It’s a nerve-wracking thought, like, coming out, right? You do it all the time, you know the feeling… And I did it before, too, previous to the fame and all, but for a while there it was beginning to look a lot scarier than I used to think.” His voice disappears into a whisper, and he looks down at his hands, playing with the glass of wine. Louis watches him, knowing by the way his mouth is still ajar that there is more about to spill out of his mouth. “Since last week it’s just… Knowing you’ll be there makes me feel better, is all.”

Louis’ eyes trail over him slowly, his long curls falling over his face and covering his eyes. Without thinking, Louis grabs his head and smacks a kiss to his cheek. 

Harry chuckles self-consciously, running a hand through his hair when Louis lets him go. He sets the glass down. “Maybe that’s selfish, I don’t know.”

“I don’t think so…” he answers softly. “Sometimes you need a little comfort. I’m just glad I can help you.”

“You know I’m grateful, right?”

“‘Course I know,” Louis mutters, then clears his throat and knocks his shoulder into Harry’s. “Now, let me demonstrate the love on Instagram. I reckon this sunset is proper romantic, innit?”

Harry snorts, shaking his head. “Do you want me to organise the wine glasses and tilt the fruit while you find the perfect angle?”

Louis looks at him, unimpressed. “Are you trying to make fun of yourself…?” Harry’s eyes darken, and Louis smirks. “Don’t think I don’t know how much effort you put behind your hipster pictures.”

“I’m retro, not hipster.”

“Whatever you say.”

Louis does end up finding the perfect angle, which he haughtily announces to Harry, who in turn reaches over and twists his nipple painfully. Because Harry is a little shit, he has even more complaints to issue.

“When will you stop making fun of the hashtags?” he groans into Louis’ ear as he types out his caption.

“When you stop abusing them. Plus, I need to be subtle.” He isn’t sure if it’s actually subtle, but Jeff keeps saying the word whenever he mentions Louis’ social media activity. 

“I don’t abuse —” Harry starts.

“You use them all the time!”

“I don’t!”

“On your private one you bloody well do!”

“Stop lying, Lou! And who are you to talk, you don’t even play footie anymore!” he exclaims, pointing at Louis’ icon.

Louis shoves him in the chest, making a noise of displeasure. Harry proceeds to tuck his arm around his neck and yanks him close, meanwhile Louis feebly attempts pushing him away. Harry forces him in, Louis’ face landing against his chest. They end up falling back against the sandy bed.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he hums, snuggling closer.

“Me, too, pup.” Louis squeezes him back. “Me, too.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! This is a bit of a long chapter. If you follow me on twitter you might have seen that I asked if you wanted me to split it into two, but the responses I got wished for a long one instead, so here this is, nearly 12k :) A small warning: there are tiny One Tree Hill and Captain America spoilers in here somewhere.

According to Jeff Azoff, Louis is a beautiful tool to Harry’s coming out. It happens to be that Harry’s label and public relations team agree. Thus, in the middle of July, Louis and Harry’s public relationship has turned into a constant full-page subject in almost any magazine or tabloid. 

The following two weeks after their beach date are spent in a similar manner. Louis’ Instagram and Twitter accounts have never seen as much light, several posts a week going up. They keep it subtle, and not ‘Louis’ hashtag’ subtle, because that got Louis an irate phone call from Jeff, along with a word for word reiteration of the encyclopaedic definition of the word. Apparently it caused a bit of dramatics online, but the topic of discussion was quickly swayed after Liam in Harry’s band apparently was seen out with an actress. 

It all runs very smoothly after the first couple of hiccups since Louis arrived in Los Angeles. If there is too much attention on Harry, wow, looks like one of his band mates has done something _far_ more interesting. The talk about Harry and Louis quiets down a bit too much? Social media post! And, hey, did a larger paper write that Harry and Louis are probably only good friends? Well, cue the half-subtle romantic lyric tweet from Harry’s Twitter account. 

So much has been jammed into only two weeks. It would even seem stressful from an outer perspective, but the truth is that most of Louis and Harry’s time has been spent in the studio working (Harry), or by the pool (Louis) – the beauty of stunts operated through social media. 

“So,” Harry says, perched on the edge of Louis’ sun chair, holding his phone in both of his large hands, his fingers tangled around it in a truly fascinating manner. “We leave on Monday morning at eight, and I’ve got promotion for the three coming days. You could come hang around and chill with the lads, or if you want to you can go back home a few days early? Check on the flat?”

Louis hums, stretching. He itches his shin with his other foot. Harry is blocking the sun. “Maybe we can go back up north together after London? And if it’s still alright, Lottie could travel with us back to LA after, if you still think it could work out.”

Harry’s hand lands on his shin, just leaving it there as though it were a subconscious movement. It probably even was; his eyes are still locked on the phone. 

“Of course it will work. You’ll be here as well, it’s not as if she’ll be on her own.” His hand squeezes Louis’ leg, and Louis hums, crossing his arms behind his head. Harry is currently going through their joint schedule for the coming days that Esme sent over this morning after presumably chatting with Harry’s public relations team. 

Louis sees his brows knit as he reads. “What?” he asks. 

“We have the photo-op tomorrow.” 

Louis’ brows lift in surprise. “Already?”

Earlier this week Jeff had been talking about giving the magazine he has a deal with a larger story than what has been circulating in the media for the last weeks since the failed stunt. It would be something more proper than the subtle social media posts. They have got about two months until the album release, which means that in Jeff’s opinion it’s high time to actually start seeding the relationship. 

Apparently for a normal coming out one would start off with slowly hinting toward the celebrity in question’s sexuality, and then the relationship. As it is, it works out fairly alright. Harry’s public image and public sexuality has been altered for nearly more than a year now. Considering the media is already hot on Harry’s heels they had decided to keep it as discreet as possible for now, making what they have done so far mostly fandom targeted. 

But now, it’s time to bring out the big guns again. PR wants to bring in a hired photographer to snap pictures of them doing something casual together, new material for articles, as Jeff had put it when he explained to Louis a second time why it was necessary if they weren’t even allowed to seem romantic about it. 

Despite willingly agreeing to this stunt, Louis has made a promise to himself to try to lie as little as possible. He still remembers the precise way Harry told him he didn’t want to lie anymore, and he will genuinely try to keep the promise he gave in return as much as possible. Clearly already going shit, but he fucking tries.

“It’s not lying,” Jeff had said, looking at Louis as though he were a confused child. “It’s setting an image. People will take from it what they will.”

“They’ll take from it what you tell them to,” Louis responded, squinting. But, he had agreed to this after all, signed a little non-disclosure contract and everything after Harry’s lawyer had a peek at it, including one that says he is legally obliged to fill his end of the bargain. Harry had complained it was hardly necessary, but Louis did it just for the point of it. 

“What if it’s shit, and you want out?” Harry said, looking at him with furrowed brows as he worried his lip. 

“Well,” Louis shrugged. “Then it’s shit and I want out, and that’s it. I wouldn’t leave you if my own life depended on it.”

Harry shook his head. “You’re a good friend. Don’t know how I got so lucky.”

“Well, maybe you’re not lucky. Maybe I just love you,” Louis said, and proceeded to put his signature on the line at the bottom of the page. 

So. The upcoming photo-op will either involve walking down a street, or driving Harry’s convertible. It’s optional, apparently, Harry tells him now as he frowns at his phone screen. 

“Do you wanna walk or drive?” Louis asks, scratching the thin happy trail below his navel. The soft hairs have turned slightly sun bleached, his skin looking pleasingly tan. 

“If we drive it will be over faster.” Harry pushes his sunglasses from his eyes and into his hair, a small impish smile playing on his lips. 

“I like the way you think, Styles.” Louis lifts his foot and pokes him in the tummy. Harry doesn’t laugh, only gnaws on his lip. He speaks his mind before Louis can even begin to sigh.

“Jeff is gonna have PR officially name-drop you after this, you remember that, yeah?” He looks at him with concern in his eyes. “The media know your name, but like… he will say it’s you, explicitly. They are gonna be all ‘Harry out with close pal Louis Tomlinson, 5’9, teacher,’ and etcetera.”

“I _know_ , Harry,” Louis retorts earnestly. “I know, and it’s okay, H. It’s going to happen eventually, so why not now? I agreed to this, so stop worrying.” He arches his brows, staring at him until he meets his eyes.

Harry reluctantly nods, seemingly accepting it. Louis knows he probably won’t be entirely fine with it ever, but there is not much they can do about it now. 

“Want to go for a run?” he asks — a distracting tactic. 

“Sure you can keep up with me with those legs?”

Louis gapes, scandalised. “You absolute twat.”

They do go for a run, and Louis does in fact have trouble breathing when he gets back to the house, half a minute behind Harry. Fucking performer cardio on that one. 

The next day they get up around ten, Harry dressing in one of the Gucci shirts they picked up a couple weeks ago. Louis doesn’t think he is allowed to wear anything else than Gucci in these arranged photo-ops, at the very least not one of their competitive brands. Louis himself pulls on an unobtrusive greyish-blue tank over a pair of tight-fitting blue jeans, and picks a pair of Harry’s many aviators. 

They are being photographed in a neighbourhood not far from Harry’s gated community. It turns out that Harry has done this more than a few times, on the very same street even, and he doesn’t need directions to drive to the block the pap is waiting on. They drive around it slowly, knowing the pap is on the other side. Harry tells Louis to put his shades on for some reason, and then they reach the right street. Harry discreetly nods to the corner of block as they stop in front of a red light in a very convenient spot, and Louis turns to see the photographer snap away.

“Should we start snogging or flip him off so PR can’t use the pictures?” Louis asks, grinning devilishly as he turns back to Harry, who throws his head back and cackles loudly. 

“If we snog they’ll just use them later on when I’m out anyway,” he grins. 

“Hm,” Louis shrugs. “Might as well then,” he says, and grabs Harry head and sinks his teeth into his neck. 

“Louis!” Harry flails, hand comic up to push him off as he struggles not to lose the clutch. There is a car behind them that honks, and Louis releases Harry with pop. Harry gets the car in motion and drives, heading around the corner of the block. 

Louis laughs darkly as he watched him rub over the spot. He can see faint teeth marks in the skin.

“God,” Harry moans. “Fuck, Lou.”

“Sorry, mate,” he snickers. “Less pictures for PR, though.”

Harry rolls his eyes, but raises his hand and slips his fingers into the hair at the back of Louis’ neck. He probably shouldn’t, but PR can pick and choose what pictures they want to release anyway. They must have enough for now. Louis isn’t sure if there is some sort of protocol when it comes to arranged paparazzi outings — perhaps they should give the photographer a wave? — but in any case Harry does nothing, only keeps his hand on Louis’ neck and deserts the area. 

“Why was I supposed wear the aviators?” Louis asks as they speed away. 

“Oh,” Harry says, shrugging. “I thought you looked hot in them.”

The pictures eventually come out on Sunday before noon, just in time for the new press week. None of the photosets revealed by _The Depictor_ contain evidence of the generous love bite Louis had given Harry, nor are there any of the little scalp scratch Harry had given back. Although, there is one of Harry rubbing his neck and Louis laughing brightly, the Californian sun beaming off his sunglasses. 

The fans reportedly don’t seem entirely pleased by the photos. They aren’t displeased either, but there is thick layer of confusion among them. As far as Louis has understood, they aren’t completely on board with why Harry would get papped with Louis again if there are so many rumours surrounding their relationship. It hasn’t clicked yet for most of them, because Louis is a _friend_ to them. It’s a process, is what Jeff says. 

Louis is yelled at in manner he doesn’t know if it is aggressive or just frustrated on his Twitter account for most of the Sunday. Fans tweeting want him to address what is going on, or if there even is anything going on at all. There already seems to be a bit of a tug war among the fans: is there something happening behind the scenes, or is there not? For those who believe there is, their opinion doesn’t always involve a reasoning associated with something romantic between Harry and Louis. Louis isn’t ashamed to say that it is quite interesting to watch. 

The flight from Los Angeles to London takes about ten hours. Contrary to popular belief, it is possible for Harry to go through LAX unseen by paparazzi and fans. It may take a private security check and an earlier boarding, but in the end when Louis, Harry, and Esme are seated in the first class compartment, they have managed to do so without any run-ins with either. 

The chairs are foldable, and Harry and Louis spread out on the bed-resembling furniture to sleep. They had stayed up far too long watching the second Captain America film the previous night. 

“If I were Captain America and you fell down the mountain, I would fucking abandon the train and go look for you,” Harry had said as Steve realised that the Winter Soldier was actually Bucky. “I’d never let you turn into that.”

“Remind yourself of that when it happens,” Louis said. “You wouldn’t even find me. I would have fallen thousands of metres.”

Harry looked at him, a determined look in his eyes. “I’d find you.”

It’s pretty ridiculous how serious he looked, and even though it’s not even minimally possible that would ever happen to them it made Louis’ heart warm. He doesn’t know why they are this way, but declarations of loyalty and love has become a normal fixture between them. Perhaps the reason lies behind the large time they spend apart, Louis always in Manchester and Harry in Los Angeles or wherever in the world his job takes him. 

While on the subject, it’s been a month since Louis saw his family home in England, longer than he has gone without them since he travelled Asia a couple of years ago. By the end of the week he’ll be home again, and he wonders absently as he listens to music in his headphones if his alcoholic neighbour has emptied his post box downstairs like she promised. If not, hopefully his mum has taken care of it when she has checked up on the flat. 

They land at Heathrow late Monday night, or rather, early Tuesday morning. They are taken directly from the airplane into a waiting escalade after getting their passports checked by airport employees outside on the ramp. The larger car drives them into London, and even though they spent the last ten hours napping they both fall asleep as soon as they hit the freeway. 

Harry has work the three following days. He and his band mates are doing promotion for the upcoming album at a secret location — not even Louis is quite sure where it is they are going. He could stay back at the hotel or go to see his mates that live in London instead of sitting back and watching interview upon interview being filmed, but he hasn’t seen Harry’s band mates in literally over a year, and Harry was adamant that he meet them. Zayn, who also resides in West Hollywood not far from Harry’s house, had gone back to England only a week into Louis’ stay and they never got together. 

When they arrive at the location there are photographers waiting. They are hired, obviously, as nobody who isn’t going to be working here today has got the faintest clue of where they are. They snap pictures as soon as Harry and Louis exit the car, Esme by Louis’ side. She is not going to be staying long, heading off to somewhere in a bit, although Louis is not aware of why. Maybe she doesn’t hang around for these things. She’s Harry’s PA, not a handler. 

“They’ll probably crop you out of the pictures. Jeff would have said if we were gonna be papped together again,” Harry says to Louis when he meets him inside the building with Esme. There is a man waiting for them that Louis recalls as being called Jack _Something_ , who instantly shakes Harry’s hand, starting to walk him through the corridor in a familiar manner after he has greeted Louis with a nod and a brief smile. Louis thinks Jack recognises him not just from the papers; the man is a handler, he’s sure, who’s been working with Harry for a few years now. They must have crossed paths somehow. 

They’re lead to what looks similar to a backstage room at one of Harry’s concerts. There are a few leather sofas and a rack of clothes, along with a makeup table, at which a brunet kid is slouching. From afar, he looks like the epitome of hung over. 

“Hey, Niall,” Harry says, and strolls over to slap him on the shoulder, squeezing. Niall jolts, clearly not having heard them walk in. Louis thinks he may have been sleeping. 

“Fuck, mate. Scared the life out of me,” he mutters, but stands and pulls Harry into a hug. He continues to say something in his ear that Louis can’t hear, but when they let go Harry is smiling softly, murmuring a ‘thank you’. Niall turns to Louis, and the first thing Louis notices is the blemishes beneath his glassy eyes. Yeah, he confirms to himself, Niall is a hundred per cent hung over. “Hey, man! Louis!”

“Y’alright?” Louis grins, patting him back as he embraces him. He keeps his arm locked around him longer than expected, but Louis doesn’t mind, only keeps patting the top of his back.

“Okay, Ni…” Harry begins, and Louis looks up to see him staring with a confused yet not entirely satisfied expression on his face. 

“Oh, come on, man, I love Louis. Haven’t seen him around in ages.” Louis feels his hands pat the small of his back one last time, and then he is free from pale arms more toned than he remembered. 

They haven’t hung out _that_ much, but back when Harry’s band had just come off The XFactor they used to go out partying in London quite a bit. 

Harry only mutters something intelligible, and his shoulder brushes Louis’ own, his arm subsequently slipping around his shoulders to tuck him into his side. Niall rolls his eyes.

“I’m just saying, Liam, that I don’t think it’s a look that anybody will appreciate. Least of all me. Julia will one hundred per cent agree with me…”

Louis looks up to see Liam, followed by his girlfriend — Louis presumes this as the woman is holding his hand — walk into the room together with Jack. Louis didn’t even notice him disappearing earlier. He watches Liam, a quite sturdy lad, run a hand through his brown hair, looking back at whom must be Sophia. Louis takes a step back, Harry coming with easily, and leans his free side against the back of one of the couches. 

“Well, _I_ would appreciate it.”

“Wha’e fuck you two yappin’ about?” 

Both Harry and Louis are startled, practically falling as they stumble several metres from the piece of furniture it seems someone was sleeping on, hidden from sight. Louis grips Harry’s waist, steadying him.

“What the fuck, Zayn!” Niall yells, and then winces at the sound of his own loud voice. “Jesus!” Then he turns around and stalks out of the room, the same door Liam came in through. 

“He gets… weird when he’s hung over,” Harry explains. 

Louis stares at the door that slides shut, and then back at the sofa where a platinum bleached head of hair attached to a sharp-jawed face is resting against the edge. Zayn’s eyes flutter closed.

“I will never understand why, Liam,” Sophia says, resuming the subject as though nothing has interrupted it, crossing her arms. 

“Because it looks cool!”

“Tell him, Harry, that buzzing his hair off is not cool.” The tiny girl shakes her head, her pouty lips pressing down. 

“Definitely not, Liam,” Harry says, shaking his head with a wrinkle of his nose. He leaves Louis’ side and hugs Sophia, her small body almost disappearing from sight from Louis’ view. “Hi, babe.”

“Hi, darling,” she says, voice light and warm now. “Hope you’re okay.” She pats his back gently before Harry moves on to get a hug from Liam as well. This greeting is different from the others, a lot gentler even though the rest of them were warm. Liam cups Harry’s neck, holding him close as he talks for at least a minute into his ear. Louis almost leans back against the sofa again before he remembers that Zayn’s cheek is still very mushed against the edge of it, arm dangling lifelessly. 

It’s quite lovely how much they all seem to care. Louis knows Harry has been going through a rough time, and all of them have seen it up close for months. 

“So, Louis, right?” Sophia says, walking over. In her heels she reaches just about to Louis’ forehead. “I’m Sophia, Liam’s girlfriend. We haven’t met.”

“Yeah, nice to meet you,” he smiles genuinely, shaking her hand. 

“Hope you’re doing okay. The pressure from all of this,” she waves her hand around, “can be rough. It’s very overwhelming.” She smiles gently, obviously trying not to seem too forward.

“Well, it’s been alright,” he shrugs. “Haven’t been faced with too much madness yet, and I can just _not_ read my Twitter mentions or Instagram comments…” 

“Yeah, definitely don’t do that,” she laughs, flicking her long hair over her shoulder. “Better just stay off social media. I keep my accounts private.”

There is a sound of what is likely a snore, and Louis flicks a look at the oldest and sleeping member of the band. “Why’s he sleeping?” 

“I think he and Niall went out last night with PR.” 

“He’s doing stuff, too?” 

She shrugs. “They thought the breakup stories between me and Liam were getting a bit too much after he hung out with Lucy Hale. They were just trying to deflect from Harry’s drama, but they still want to keep the press talking about the entire band before the album release.”

Louis struggles to understand how she can be so casual talking about it, as if all these lies is completely normal. Perhaps it is though, in this industry. She’s been watching this front row for at least a year and half now, Louis is fairly certain. 

“What’s Zayn’s part in it?” he asks. 

“Spending some time with Gigi Hadid, the model. Think he said they weren’t gonna make it romantic until a few weeks. Think Azoff wanted to make it big a month or so from now, and then focus on you two before the album.”

Louis stares at her, spending a moment just blinking. It’s a lot to process. It is a bit hard to grasp how big this all is. All Louis has done is make some posts on social media, but it’s obviously a piece in the entire promotion strategy for the new album. He almost sighs outwardly. No wonder this band is the most talked about in the media since… _always_.

“Wow,” he says, smiling weakly. 

“Sorry. Overwhelming, yep.” She smiles back sympathetically. 

Harry comes over then, Liam in tow. The latter gives Louis a hug, but before anything else can happen Jack is back in the room, Niall and a blonde older woman behind him. She seems to be a handler like him, a plastic card hanging from her neck, identical to his. 

Harry elbows him gently to gain his attention. “That’s Nora,” he mutters. “She looks after my coming out press in the UK for Jeff. He hired her specifically for it when they started the process last year. She’s great, but kind of —”

“Louis Tomlinson, this is yours.” He is handed a laminated card by the woman Harry was speaking of. “Don’t lose it for the coming three days if you are going to be around.”

“…frank,” Harry finishes his sentence. 

Louis regards the card for a second, then looks up to see Sophia hanging one around her own neck. He has been to enough concerts to know it’s for security, but he wasn’t aware it was needed in this setting. 

Jack clears his throat, walking over to shake Zayn awake. When he has stopped blinking and looks fully conscious, Jack begins to read out the agenda for the three coming days, then going into more detail for today’s schedule. 

During the first day the interviews are being held by smaller media-outlets from different countries in Europe. It’s mostly radio stations and magazines, a few bigger papers from the Nordic countries, but neither of them large enough for the entire band to be present at each one. From what Louis observes it seems like only the absolute biggest outlets get the entire four-piece, and today they’ll only be switching around in pairs.

Harry’s first interview seems to be with a French radio station together with Zayn, but before they are ushered away their stylists burst into the room, two younger girls in tow. Julia, their hair and makeup stylist, doesn’t even greet Harry before she pulls him down in a chair, fingers digging into his hair with some mousse in record time. It’s just to give it some volume she explains to one of the younger girls, whom must be an intern, as Louis watches, feeling slightly out of place with people swishing around him in high speed. Harry’s turn in the chair doesn’t take longer than that, and when he is pushed over to the rack of clothes his curls are bouncier and look softer.

The air in the room reeks of stress all of a sudden, and Louis senses they might be running late. It seems to be a lot of interviews to cram into a day, and there isn’t much time for much chatter. While Louis hears Julia aggressively agreeing with Sophia’s opinion on Liam’s hair, he finds Zayn looking at him from where he is changing into a simple black, long-sleeved shirt, the stylist behind him plucking the tag off the back of the neckline. Zayn doesn’t say anything, only nods with half a smile. Louis reciprocates it, although a bit uncertain of what it means. 

By the time all four members of the band are ushered out of the backstage area the place is a mess, and Louis has sat down on one of the couches, blinking in exhaustion. For the first time he understands the necessity of separate dressing rooms when they go on tour. 

Louis can feel the lack of sleep from the previous night in his bones. It’s only nine, and they didn’t get to the hotel until two-thirty the previous night. He watches Julia and the clothing stylist that Louis is fairly sure is called Damien speak to their interns separately, and Sophia comes to join him on the sofa. 

“I am not letting that man shave his hair off. He only mentioned it this morning, and I had not planned for this today. God.”

Louis chuckles. “Why does he even want to?”

Sophia grimaces. “His favourite character in a TV show died. We watched it last night, and it wasn’t pretty.”

Louis laughs again, shaking his head. “I would just stop watching, honestly. My favourite couple quit One Tree Hill, so I gave up.”

“Lucas and Peyton? Me, too. Season seven and eight are just shit.”

After that the coming hours roll by. Louis spends most of his time chilling in the backstage room with Sophia, the interns and Julia eventually coming to join them, Damien leaving when he isn’t needed anymore. Technically one of the interns doesn’t need to stick around, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Both girls are around the age of eighteen, Louis’ sister Lottie’s age, and he instantly gets the impression they would have made quite good friends. Needless to say he finds them enjoyable to talk to, and the time waiting around isn’t much of a drag. His stomach starts growling when the clock nears eleven-thirty, and Julia gives him a grin.

“Don’t worry about it,” she says, accent sounding slightly Scottish. Her perfectly manicured fingers starts tapping on her phone, and soon she is speaking to someone about getting lunch served a bit earlier. The boys have a lunch break around noon if Louis remembers correctly. 

Their food arrives a few minutes later, Louis, Sophia, and the team digging in, not waiting for the band and their handlers to join them. Harry and Liam are the first to eventually come back, followed by Nora. Harry instantly sinks into the sofa next to Louis, thigh pressing against his, yawning as he eyes the food. 

“Alright, love?” Louis asks, bumping his shoulder with his own. 

“I’m so bloody tired, man,” he groans, covering his face with his hands. Louis smiles at him softly, rubbing his back affectionately. 

“Eat,” he says, pushing a plastic container of a tuna salad toward him. Harry squints at it for a long second, and Louis sighs and swaps it for a curry-chicken baguette. Harry takes this one, and Louis resumes his own eating. 

Zayn and Niall come back a few minutes later, Niall instantly walking over to the woman who’d brought the food. He stares at her for a moment, before asking, “Hawaii pizza?”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, on the table, Niall.”

He looks like he is going to cry. “Thank you, Ella.” Then he hugs her tightly for ten long seconds, and proceeds to walk over and grab his pizza box, pressing himself down on the sofa between Sophia and Liam, and eats.

He must be suffering a horrendously bad hangover. Louis interestedly wonders what exactly he and Zayn got up to last night. 

“Smile everybody!” It’s Jack calling, and he is holding up a phone as though he is filming, turning in a circle to get the entire room in the video. A third of them make a half-hearted greeting, mouths filled with food. 

“Glenne has a deal with Snapchat,” Harry explains with a shrug when Louis looks at him. In his periphery he can see Nora walk up to Jack, eyeing the video with sharp eyes. If they post it, there is definitely going to be a quick shot of Louis by Harry’s side, tucked in on the sofa between him and Julia. 

Harry finishes his lunch a couple minutes after Louis, and then snuggles into his side, closing his eyes with his head resting against his shoulder. Louis pats his thigh, suppressing the urge to close his own to nap as well. He doesn’t know all these people well enough to be entirely comfortable for that yet. Instead he sighs and settles for watching Julia and her intern pamper with Zayn’s hair and adding to his makeup. 

At one point he feels the clothing intern’s eyes on him. He thinks her name is Amelia, and when she sees him look back at her as she watches Harry breathe warmly through his t-shirt, breath hitting his skin, she blushes, quickly looking away. It’s not the first time someone has looked at them that way — as though they are intruding on something — and Louis most of the time doesn’t mind, but most of the time the people giving them those looks also think they are a couple. Amelia should probably know they aren’t, but maybe they don’t tell everyone everything here. Although, one would think she’d be aware since she has been working this closely to the band.

After having their makeup retouched, Zayn and Liam disappear to continue working. Julia moves on to Harry, makeup intern watching intently and nodding as Julia talks her through the process. 

Harry gets up when he is finished, giving Louis’ arm a squeeze. Niall is left slouching on the sofa opposite him, lazily chewing on a slice of pizza.

“Rough night yesterday?” Louis asks good-naturedly.

Niall looks up, and shrugs. “T’was alright.”

“Must be shit doing interviews all day with a hangover.” He takes a sip from his water bottle, wondering if the boy is going to enlighten him on his adventures.

“Yeah, I don’t get hung over,” Niall answers instead. He makes no further comment, simply attending to his pizza.

Louis opens his mouth, his eyes squinting, but in the end he doesn’t get anything out and Niall is urged to go out and join Harry for their next interview. 

At the end of the day, Louis has done nothing but lounged around on the sofas, chatted with the girls, and had a quick nap when the room was void of people for a rare few minutes.

“Was it bad?” Harry asks in the car on the way back, phone in his hand. “I know it’s boring just sitting around.”

“Nah, it was fine,” he assures him. “The team is nice.”

“I think they like you,” he smiles. “Especially Julia and the interns. And Sophia. And Zayn, too.”

Louis rolls his eyes, smiling softly. “Do they like me, or do _you_ like me?”

He shakes his head. “I’m serious,” he mumbles. They are silent for a minute, before Harry asks, “Did you see the video that they posted of all of us on Snapchat? You and I are trending on Twitter…”

“Really?” He arches a brow. “No, I haven’t looked.”

Harry frowns, scrolling on his phone. “The tweets aren’t very nice…”

“What do you mean?”

“They seem a bit mad that you’re with me,” he explains, forehead wrinkled.

“Like… homophobic mad?” Louis asks tentatively.

“Not really? Maybe more frustrated ‘cause you’re around so much, and they don’t get why. Even when you’ve stayed with me in L.A. before it’s never been this publicised… Perhaps it feels a bit in their faces, I mean haven’t been seen with anyone but you for a month. There used to be at most a tweet or a fan picture.” Harry scrolls on his phone. “Listen to this one: ‘ _At least when Harry goes back to L.A. we don’t have to worry about more material for the papers — Harry deserves some rest from the drama._ ’”

“That’s sweet, though. They’re just concerned.”

Harry stares at his phone for a long moment. “Want them to know that _you’re_ the one that makes the drama easier. I don’t want them wishing you weren’t with me.” He sighs. “Maybe I shouldn’t care what they think. I just… I want everyone to know the truth, I guess.”

“I think it’s very lovely that you do, though,” Louis responds. “And they will know the truth eventually.” 

Well, to an extent, because by then the world will think he and Harry are in love, which isn’t true.

Harry seems to be on the same page with him, a small frown on his forehead when Louis meets his eyes. 

“I’m sorry it can’t be entirely perfect, Haz.”

He smiles back. “It’s as good as it gets, though.”

The second day plays out similarly to the first, although, Niall is in a severely better mood, Sophia isn’t fighting Liam on his hair, and Harry has gotten more than a few hours of sleep in him. On Day Two they are speaking to minor magazines in the UK, and they do some casual Snapchat videos for Spotify, which include ping-pong matches at one point. There is no footage of Louis anywhere; Nora makes sure that he stays out of frame and out of sight of the media people milling about. At the end of the day, though, Louis and the makeup intern, Grace, have challenged two of the Spotify guys into a long ping-pong match that they won after a third round to break the tie. Nora shakes her head at him when she finds him giving Grace a piggyback ride, shouting their victory at their opponents. He doesn’t think he is as intimidated as he should be. 

“I think Amelia thinks we’re an actual item,” Louis says to Harry when they have arrived back at the hotel the same night. He is plugging his phone into the charger on the nightstand after a call to his mother, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“I think she was a fan before she started her internship with Julia,” Harry shrugs, as if that explains away her interest. Louis accepts it, but he still thinks about the way she watched so intently when Harry had come up from behind to hug Louis close earlier that day.

On the third day of album promotion, Sophia isn’t around to keep Louis company along with the interns. Harry and the boys are doing full-band interviews, sitting on a brown sofa with a green-pinkish flowery set piece as a background, with the album name printed on in a big font: At The End Of The Day. It is a quite fitting album title, as Harry has told Louis it’s from a song that’s about loving whoever you love. It’s sweet that the boys would agree to name the record that, knowing that Harry will be coming out of the closet just before the release. Or maybe it was Jeff’s idea, or someone at the music label, just to milk the coming out as much as possible for promotion. Louis greatly prefers the first option. 

Nora approaches Louis and Harry when Harry has gotten dressed and his makeup is done. The boys are doing interviews with the big UK media outlets today, and the magazine Jeff has a deal with have flown in from America. As it turns out, Nora wants Louis to hang around the set while they are interviewed by that specific magazine. Their interview is filmed and will be put on their website in a week or so, but they do spreads and articles as well, and Nora is trying to make sure there will be more than a few mentions of Louis in the print version.

After lunch, while Louis waits to be permitted to enter the shooting room, he is slouching on the sofas with Amelia and Grace. He is texting idly with Fizzy, his second oldest sister, and simultaneously chatting with the girls. 

“Do you have Instagram?” Grace asks, and they end up exchanging follows. They both have their fare share of followers, almost as many as Louis. To be fair, he has gained a rather hefty amount the last month, tens of thousands. 

“Do you guys come to America as well?” he wonders. 

They nod. “We went over for their performances during award season last year, and for some TV appearances. We’ll be coming over for the video shoot, and then they probably have some more appearances come album release,” Amelia explains. 

“Sounds great.”

“You’ve been with Harry in L.A. then?” she asks. “Heard you came in just before this started.”

“Yeah, arrived there like a month ago. We’re going home to Manchester tonight, then back to L.A. next week.”

They nod again, both smiling knowingly at him. He knows they are aware of what is written in the papers, and he should probably call them out on it, but he doesn’t. Bringing it up all the time doesn’t seem necessary. 

He logs onto Twitter, and scrolls through his timeline for a moment. Apparently Kylie Jenner has a new lipstick collection according to one of his sisters’ retweets, and, reported by a trend, it seems like Justin Bieber’s fans want him to come to Brazil again. He makes the mistake of reading some of his mentions, one which leads to thread where one tweet says ‘ _I wish Louis wasn’t gay so his and harry’s relationship wouldn’t be questioned all the time_ ’, and he promptly logs off. He doesn’t think he has ever even alluded to his romantic orientation online, and he doesn’t know how someone can make a remark like that. It’s quite offensive, actually. 

Nora comes to get him and the girls when it’s time for the interview with _The Depictor_. Grace scurries off to help Julia add to the boys’ makeup and spray some stuff in their hairs, and Louis and Amelia follow Nora into the room. Harry is standing in the middle of the room, chatting to what seems to be one of the interviewers. The rest of the band are being pampered while media people are milling about the room. Harry lights up when Louis manages to catch his eyes, and he quickly shakes the reporter’s hand, excusing himself. Louis sees her watch as Harry hurries over to Louis, wrapping him in a close hug. 

“Hello,” Louis greets, a bit taken aback by the big embrace. He expects Harry to release him subsequently, but his arms around his waist remain where they are. 

“Hi,” Harry hums, burying his nose in Louis’ neck, inhaling. Louis stiffens slightly, because while hugging amongst people has never been an issue, Louis doesn’t know if they should in this setting. 

“Are you sure you’re supposed to be hugging me with all these people here?” he asks uncertainly. The hug, Harry’s hands on the small of his back, feels slightly on the edge of romantic, and there is a man staring at them with a pen in a tight grip. 

“Nora told me to,” Harry murmurs in his ear. Louis opens his mouth, but doesn’t say anything. Oh. “I was supposed to keep my hands near your arse.” Louis almost chokes. Harry chuckles. “Just hold me a few more seconds, and then let me go back to the sofa.”

“Did she plan all this?” he squeaks quietly. It seems a bit ridiculous that she told Harry exactly what to do with his hands. As disturbing as it seems, though, it’s suggested how very real it is when Harry nods, continuing. 

“You’re supposed to look longingly after me.”

Louis cackles loudly at that, leaning back until he is faced with Harry’s grin, a few centimetres between them. He can see people looking at them, but he refuses to blush from how closely they are standing while the strangers watch.

“This is ridiculous,” he says, trying to gain some composure.

“It is,” Harry grins. “Now I’m gonna squeeze your waist, and then you’ll give me heart eyes while I walk away.”

“Will do,” Louis snickers back, and then Harry’s big paws are hugging his hips, fingertips almost digging into the top of his arse. Louis’ stomach jumps, which in turn makes him blink in confusion as he isn’t even ticklish in that spot. His skin prickles strangely, but he doesn’t have time to look if they opened a window or something before Harry strolls away, swaying his little hips exaggeratedly. Louis takes a deep breath, crosses his arms, and stares at him in a way that he hopes exudes ‘hearts, puppies, and _marry me_ ’

When Harry is seated in between Niall and Liam, Louis finally turns away and goes back to lean against the wall on the boys’ right, next to Julia and Nora, the latter nodding in approval at him. “Good work,” she says, and Louis doesn’t know if practically getting his arse grabbed at by his best mate is supposed to warrant a compliment. He doesn’t say anything back, only nods and watches the two reporters wait for the cameras to start rolling. 

The boys are being interviewed by two women in their thirties, both cheery and dressed up appropriately. They start out with casual questions about what they have all been up to lately. Niall talks about his Vegas trip, Liam about going to New York City and very specifically mentioning his girlfriend _Sophia_ (Louis briefly considers the idea that Liam doesn’t seem to be all too fond of the breakup rumours conducted between them), and Harry mentions chilling out with friends in Los Angeles. The interviewers look like they consider asking him to specify, but they don’t. Instead they move on to the album talk fairly quickly, bringing up their singles first.

“So, you’ve already released two singles; What A Feeling just over about five weeks ago, Drag Me Down a few months prior,” one of them says. “Have you decided on a third one yet?”

“Well,” Liam says, and Louis can see Jack nodding for him to go on from his spot behind the cameras. Louis is impressed with how apart from the tiny glance Liam doesn’t seem at all as though he was wondering if he was allowed to speak out or not. “We’ve chosen a song called ‘Never Enough’ for the next single. It’s gonna be released a bit before the album, I think.”

“It’s a jam. I think it will do good on radio,” Niall adds. “It’s a bit crazy, but definitely something to rock out to. Gonna be fun performing with the guitars, too.”

“Have you filmed the music video yet?”

“Not yet,” Zayn answers from his spot on the end of the sofa next to Niall. They keep chatting, the reporters asking more about the single, but eventually moving forward to the actual album. They do a quick fire, bringing out some fast answers and laughs from all of them. 

“What are your favourite lyrics from the album?” they ask, and Harry yells out, “The summertime and butterflies all belong to your creation!” almost drowning out Niall’s “You’ll find me in the region of the summer stars.” It’s quite adorable how intense Harry gets during these games. 

The interview ends with the good old celebrity crush question, and Louis feels Nora tense next to him instantly. Jack is pointing vigorously toward Nora behind the interviewers’ backs, eyes boring into Harry’s. Harry’s gaze flickers to them, and Nora seems to gesture some sort of ‘no’ and something else Louis doesn’t decipher as he stares between them with a confused expression on his face, brows knitted.

“Selena Gomez,” Niall says, while Jack is pointing at both Zayn and Liam at the same time with stern eyes. 

“Uhm,” Zayn says, stalling longer than Louis thought possible without seeming too awkward. “Gigi Hadid… Maybe.” Louis almost applauds him for how casual he seems as he says it. 

“I’m not sure if I should say. My girlfriend will be mad at me.” Liam laughs, but it’s strained no matter how good an actor he is. He gives a smile at the women in front of him. “Lucy Hale, perhaps.” Louis does not miss the dark, evil eye he sends Jack when the attention shifts to Harry instead. Harry who is still glancing off camera at Nora, chin rested in his hand, elbow on his thigh.

“What about you, Harry?”

Harry intentionally shifts his gaze over to Louis, still leaning on his elbow. “No, no _celebrity_ crushes.”

Then Jack is quickly tapping on one of the women’s shoulder, urging them to wrap it up. They shake hands and bid their goodbyes, Niall and Harry walking over to shake the cameramen’s hands as well. It’s the last interview of the day, and the boys quickly file out of the set and into the backstage room. 

It seems all of them are ready to head off pretty quickly, each of them giving each other hugs and ‘see you in L.A.’s’. Louis gets hugs from most of the crew as well, and it doesn’t take long before he and Harry get to exit the building some time after Zayn and Niall. It’s late afternoon, but the sun is still high on the sky, the English summer rather lovely for once. It’s not as warm as Los Angeles, but the air has a fresh breeze to it, the humidity of L.A. nowhere to be felt. 

It seems that fans have somehow figured out where the interviews are taking place, because when Louis rounds the corner of the building followed by Harry his ears are pierced with several shrieks. He looks up to see ten or so fans behind the gate, all calling for Harry. 

“You gonna take photos?” Louis asks, slowing his step, but Harry doesn’t answer. 

“Nora must have known there were fans,” he says instead, shaking his head. They walk toward the car where Preston, one of the security members is waiting. Alberto only works in America these days to be able to spend more time with his family, and in Europe and the UK Preston usually is the one to tag along to these places. “She’s good at what she does, but she isn’t completely honest all the time. Jeff always says she’s trying to make everything look as candid as possible, but I just don’t think it’s necessary.”

Harry waves absently to the fans as he speaks, but doesn’t look at them for more than a second, and Louis reaches out to squeeze his elbow without thinking. He drops his hand after he realises it might be too early to show this much affection like this, completely in the open. 

“It isn’t a too big of a deal…” he tries. 

“Whatever,” Harry sighs, and they reach the car. They greet Preston, who wishes them a happy road trip up north. Their bags are already packed and resting in the trunk of Harry’s car that they picked up last night, and Louis has already made sure Harry’s album, which is almost completely finished now, is on Harry’s iTunes so they can listen as they drive. He has yet to hear all the songs, including their new single, and from what he’s heard it’s supposed to be good. 

Preston opens the gates for them, and Harry drives through without a look at the fans. Louis knows he doesn’t like when they turn up at places they aren’t supposed to be at, or when they hang around the perimeters for hours just to get a glimpse at him and his band mates. Louis is about to ask why the sour mood, before he realises that Harry is _tired_. He has been doing interviews with most probably the same questions over and over for three days straight, jet lag from Los Angeles still hanging on. 

“Let’s stop by a petrol station and buy some snacks and coffee,” he suggests, and Harry gratefully nods before he has even ended the sentence. 

They do exactly this, and soon they are surrounded by sweets and the smell of hot coffee, music on low volume as they head out on the highway. The drive reminds him once again of their road trip through Florida, the sunset on the sky nearly as pretty as then. Harry cheers up an hour or so into the drive, and they finally put his album on. It’s absolutely sick, as expected, and Louis can’t contain himself, digging his fingers into Harry’s side as he hears their upcoming single.

“Fuck, man,” he complains. “Why have you kept this song from me? It’s sick!” He stretches his arms over his head, yawning despite the excitement he feels. “People are gonna be fucking pumped. What is the music video gonna be like?”

“I’m not sure yet. We’re having a meeting about it in L.A. when we get back.”

“You should do something edgy. Black and white. That’d be cool.”

They arrive on their street after a three and half hour drive. Louis is exhausted, and Harry who has been working and driving is even worse so. Louis can see the smile grow on his lips, though, as he turns onto the empty driveway in front of his own house. It’s barely nine o’clock, but Louis thinks Harry is going to go straight inside and sleep next to his sister, whom has promised to be here, for at least twelve hours. Louis takes his bags after they have gotten out, and helps Harry with his and closes the boot. 

With jackets on and the straps of their bags cutting across their chests, Harry captures Louis in a long hug. He holds him, words tired and low. “Thank you for being here. For the promo, the hug… everything.”

“Of course,” he sighs, tightening his grip on Harry’s back for a small moment before letting him go. Harry smiles softly, inching toward the house where a lamplight farther inside the house seems to be flicking on. “See you later, pup.”

“Bye, Lou,” he smiles. 

Louis turns around and trudges down across the street toward his own house. He can see his mother patiently waiting on the porch, arms crossed, and he grins and quickens his steps. He’s wrapped into a warm hug as soon as he reaches the house, and he smiles into his mother’s hair. 

“Missed you _so_ much,” he sighs.

He is greeted by the rest of the family soon enough, and his mum has saved him dinner that he devours in an instant as they all settle in front of the TV. Louis cuddles up with Fizzy in a blanket as soon as he is finished, wrapping his arm around her and tucking them in until they resemble a burrito. His mum kisses his head, fingers digging into his hair after a while. Louis isn’t ashamed to say he loves being cuddled, and a good hair-scratch does not bother him in the least. The women in the family spoil him far too much. 

Before he goes to bed, he sees that Harry has tweeted, being quite specific about his whereabouts. Normally Harry would never in a million years tweet out his location. Fans know where his parents live, and there have been more than a few occasions where fans and even paparazzi have turned up on their street when rumours have had it he is home in Manchester for a bit. Louis guesses this is for people to know he and Louis are still in the same place, and maybe he was even told to tweet it. In any case, Louis is glad Harry gets to have a break, and to be _home_.

Louis doesn’t hear from Harry the next day, and he didn’t expect to either. He knows Harry is sleeping and being attended to by Gemma, Anne, and Robin. He hasn’t been home for months, and Louis happily leaves him to be alone with his closest family. Louis knows his sisters want to see Harry, too, especially when he is just across the street, but he and his mother forbid them to go over and disturb the Styles-Twist family. 

He spends his own Friday chilling out with the family, playing footie in the backyard, and talking to his sisters. Apparently Fizzy has decided to continue with boarding school next year, and as Louis knows she is very focused on her studies and truly enjoys it he thinks it’s a good idea. The baby twins, two and a half years old now, are absolutely adorable, and Louis and Lottie take them for a walk to the park with their mum. 

“Is it weird?” Lottie asks as they’re playing in the sandbox. The sun is warming Louis’ neck, shirt sticking to his back a bit. 

He looks up, eyeing her as she is tucking a few long, silvery hair strands behind her ear. “What?” he wonders. 

“Dating Harry.”

He knows his mother is listening, too, and he looks at them both for a moment before he shrugs. “Not really. I mean it’s crazy learning about all the bullshit behind the scenes… like how perfectly constructed everything is. It’s a bit scary, to be honest. But dating Harry… We’ve always been quite tactile so I don’t think so. Not really.”

“You’re not scared your friendship will change?” his mum wonders. 

“Why would it change?”

“Because it’s a lot of pressure, ” she says softly. “You’re new to this world, you don’t know what pretending to be a couple right in front of the cameras will do in the long run. I’m not saying you won’t be as good friends, I am just saying you should be prepared for changes.”

Louis looks at her with a small hint of irritation. “Our relationship is not going to change, Mum.”

She sighs, long-suffering. “You’re always too stubborn to listen to your mother, of course. Both of you are, you and that curly-headed child.” She chuckles, probably thinking of how bloody dorky Harry can get. Louis forces himself not to smile. His mum has known Harry since he was a little toddler just like Louis, and she probably remembers more about their time as children than him. 

“Will you have to kiss and stuff…?” Lottie wonders. 

“Probably eventually,” he mutters.

“Are you sure you’re okay with it?” Jay says, looking at him sceptically. 

He hasn’t told them that he has already kissed Harry before — that he was his first kiss — and that it was fine, so he understands why they worry. Some people who identify with being demisexual can kiss people they don’t know without worry, just not being totally into it. For Louis it’s… different. Sometimes he has kissed people, found it unenjoyable, but not been bothered, and other times there has been a distinct feeling of repulsion and discomfort that is almost overwhelming shooting through him. It’s different for everyone who sees themselves as somewhere on the asexual spectrum. But, with Harry it was never uncomfortable. Louis doesn’t know how exactly to describe it still. It was sweet, and gentle, and… they fit like puzzle pieces, just like they do with everything else. 

“I think it will be fine,” he says, looking at Jay seriously. “I’ve known Harry forever, and I’m always comfortable with him. If we have to do it then it will be okay.”

“As long as you’re completely okay with it, boo. Even if it’s Harry you don’t have to do anything that makes you distressed.”

He doesn’t say that yes, legally he does, he only smiles at her, eyes squinting against the sun. “Yes, Mum.”

On Saturday, the second full day home, fans seem to wind up on their street. Louis notices this when he borrows his mum’s car to go see his flat. When he gets back, he learns that a paparazzo showed up around noon as well, and Louis guesses that Harry might have gone out during the morning and been spotted. Louis gets a text message in the afternoon from Harry himself that says Gemma has called the police, and it doesn’t take more than an hour before the street is cleared, and it remains that way for the rest of their stay. 

On Sunday morning, Louis wakes up around noon and walks into the kitchen to find his best mate making pancakes in the same apron he has worn through his entire life in this kitchen, Tomlinson children and Gemma waiting patiently by the table. Tradition, or something like that, it certainly is. 

“You came running back quickly enough,” Louis smiles, voice throaty from sleep. 

“Don’t think I came for you,” Harry snorts. “There are Tommos and Deakins I had yet to see.”

“Oh, so you’re here for the babies then? I don’t see any toddlers around, only these ugly mugs.”

“You’re one to talk,” Gemma retorts, raising a brow from her place at the table. Louis rolls his eyes, kicks Harry in the arse, and walks over to plump down on Gemma’s lap. 

She wraps her arms around his waist, and he feels her chin land on his shoulder, digging in slightly.

“Thank you,” she whispers, words only audible to him. He gets what she means; all of it, the stunt, taking care of Harry, getting him here more rested then he would have if he came back alone. Louis simply pats her hand. 

“Any plans for the day then?” He looks at Phoebe and Daisy, and over to Fizzy and Lottie. The latter has got her silvery hair in a large bun, wearing a t-shirt that says ‘I <3 BJ’. “Are you wearing my shirt?” he asks. She looks down, and then her face splits into a wide grin. Louis groans. “Harry, Lottie is wearing your blow job shirt.”

“It says _I heart Beijing_ , Louis!” Harry complains, not even turning around. Louis remembers him coming home on break with it, handing it over with a big smile on his face. Louis had asked for something touristy, and he still thinks that Harry was entirely aware that it says ‘blowjob’ and not’ Beijing’ despite how much he denies it. Louis is on to him. He wanted to see if Louis would notice it.

“It says blow job!” Louis shouts back, Gemma and Lottie agreeing. 

“Does not!”

“ _I love BJ_ , Harry,” Louis says incredulously. “Blow jobs! Come on.”

“You’re fighting a losing battle, H,” Gemma adds. “It’s blow job.”

“What on earth are you babbling about?” Louis’ mother walks into the room with an affronted look on her face, and a ginger toddler on her hip: Doris. “There are under thirteen’s present.” She nods at Phoebe and Daisy, who are entirely unfazed. 

Harry instantly leaves his spot by the stove to take Doris from Jay’s arms, kissing Louis’ mum’s cheek while doing so. It seems like they have already had their big first greeting, and when Anne and Dan, Louis’ stepfather, come into the room he figures they arrived earlier and then went out while Harry started cooking. 

“We’re going out tonight with friends tonight,” Gemma says, replying to Louis’ forgotten question.

“Oh? All of us?”

“Harry called up some mates. You, me, Lots, and Harry. Probably Jonny, Pete, Oli, and maybe Daniel. Hannah might pop in. Norah is in London, couldn’t make it.”

Louis grins over at Fizzy when he hears her mutter something under her breath. “You’re not eighteen yet, sorry. Mum would skin me.”

“It’s a Sunday anyway,” she snorts, shaking her head. Louis suspects it’s precisely the reason why they are going out tonight, specifically, and not the night before.

He feels a hand on his head, and looks up to find Anne talking to Jay above him, hand carding through his hair in soft motions. He stands from his spot in Gemma’s lap, and tucks into the older woman’s side, her arm naturally falling around his shoulders. Harry moves past them, setting down two large plates with pancakes on the table, going back to fetch more. Anne finishes her conversation with Jay, who has Doris on her hip again, and turns to smile at Louis before hugging him close. Like Gemma she doesn’t say too much, only whispers her gratitude. Louis almost blushes, because it is really not a hardship.

They are all used to crammed kitchen tables in the Tomlinson family, and they manage to fit around this one, too. Harry pushes himself in between Anne and Louis, very obviously ignoring the look Gemma gives him. Louis doesn’t comment, but he can feel Harry’s thigh pressing against his own. His hair is in a bun today, a tendril hanging loose by his temple. He looks sweet. 

They finish lunch — breakfast for Louis — and spend the rest of the day chilling out. Harry and Louis play with the younger pair of twins, Harry cooing endlessly at the toddlers. Louis hopes that one day, after all this is over, Harry can find someone he can have this with. He watches him warmly, trying not to smile too hard when he picks Ernest up and throws him over his shoulder, pretending to drop him once in awhile. 

They leave to go out around eight, Louis in a white t-shirt and black jeans, Harry in a patterned buttondown he doesn’t button more than halfway up as usual. Lottie is in a black dress, and Gemma opted for blue jeans and pretty top. They meet the group inside the pub, most of them already having arrived. They all greet Harry with warm hugs, and then proceed get into a booth and order pints. The pub is not crowded, but there are other people around. There is a rerun of a football match playing on a TV, probably from the day before. Nobody seems to notice Harry at first, but Louis can’t be sure.

Their friends instantly poke fun at the rumours about their relationship at the first best chance, making them both shake their heads. Daniel says he’s seen more of Louis in the papers than about the bloody Kardashians, and Louis isn’t entirely sure if he is joking or not because Hannah agrees seriously. They all know that Louis and Harry’s friendship is rather special, and he knows none of them think they are an actual item. Harry doesn’t bring up that it’s a stunt, though, so Louis doesn’t either. He doesn’t know if they are even allowed to say if it is or not. 

They leave that subject for a while, Harry trying to catch up on what they have all been up to. An hour into their night Harry goes to grab them more drinks, and Louis thinks he can see someone asking him for a picture by the bar. Louis tries to ignore the wish that she would have just left him alone, but at least she didn’t come up to their table. 

They drink more pints, and Harry seems to have gotten himself and Lottie a pink, fruity thing to share. Louis takes a sip and thinks he can detect too much sweetness and vodka. Hannah is sipping on some Malibu concoction which he doesn’t quite enjoy either, the coconut taste far too prominent. Harry offers to go get him another pint, words slightly slurring together, and Daniel coos. 

“Aww,” he grins. “Aren’t you the cutest couple!” 

Louis sighs, rolling his eyes with a grin. He knew it would come sooner or later. “Yes, I reckon we are. Aren’t we, Harry?” he jokes, wrapping his arm around his shoulder, patting his chest with the other. Hannah giggles, and Harry is laughing, too.

“We are,” Harry grins, pressing his cheek next to Louis’. “Look at us. We’re the prettiest pair in all of the land.” 

“You would be the most disgusting couple,” Lottie says, shaking her head.

“We would not!” Louis exclaims. He might have consumed his total of beers too fast. 

“Yes, you would,” she insists, wrinkling her nose. “Too much PDA, I can already tell.”

Well. They are already quite tactile. Maybe they would be big on PDA. He wonders if these are things they should discuss, considering they will be acting as a proper couple in only a couple of months.

“Let us see then,” Daniel prompts. “Everybody already thinks you’re a couple so let’s have at it. Come on, lads, show us some love.”

Louis snorts, but lifts his hand and strokes Harry’s cheek in a hopefully sensual manner. Harry nuzzles into the touch, closing his eyes and humming theatrically. 

“Oh, yeah,” Harry moans, making them laugh as Louis rubs his entire hand across his face. “Ooh, mmh.”

“Shut up, you knob!” Gemma complains, cackling and reaching past Louis to whack him in the chest. Harry doesn’t budge, only keeps humming showily. 

“This is horrible,” Pete remarks, shaking his head with a slightly disgusted look on his face. 

“You don’t think this is wonderful? Can you not see our unconditional love shine around us?” Louis says, bringing his arms around Harry’s neck and pats him on his back and neck, chin resting on top of his head. Harry’s nose is pressed to his throat, still humming in a manner that actually _is_ rather disturbing. 

“I don’t know why I’m watching this.” Lottie shakes her head. 

Louis feels Harry lick a fat strip of saliva across his Adam’s apple, and the entire table is soon in fits laughing as Louis feebly tries to get his odious best mate off of him. In the end he is laughing too hard, almost unable to breathe as Daniel urges Harry to snog him senseless. Louis is gasping silently as Harry’s nose is sniffing his hair obnoxiously by his ear, his own hand moving to cup Harry’s neck, tugging at his curls to make him stop.

“Go, go, go!” Jonny cheers, cackling loudly, and Louis falls into another fit of laughing. Harry is giggling uncontrollably, his hand reaching up to touch Louis’ cheek. For a moment Louis meets his eyes, but he is only laughing, eyes shaped into crescents, and then their lips meet.

He can hear the rest of the table cheering, and feel Harry laughing into the kiss. His hand is cupping Louis’ jaw, his own around Harry’s neck, and the kiss lasts for longer than expected. Kissing friends under inebriation isn’t a big deal for most people, and none of their friends seem to care when it’s Harry and Louis, either. Harry’s lips are soft, movements gentle, and there is just a little bit of tongue poking at Louis’ lips. The kiss deepens within a moment, both of them holding on to each other’s body in a firm grip. Harry’s mouth is warm, his tongue moving with surprising expertise, and before Louis knows it his knees feel wobbly even though he is already sitting, and that jolt in his stomach appears just like when Nora had ordered Harry to hug him, when he feels Harry’s tongue scrape against the roof of his mouth. All he knows is that it is definitely not the feeling of discomfort. 

He forces down a sound building in his throat — which he has no idea the meaning of — and breaks the kiss, and he can feel Harry’s drunken giggles hitting his cheek. Louis hugs him close, his breath warm in his neck, and the rest of the table are laughing, too. Louis inwardly shakes his head at him himself, unable to believe he just snogged Harry in front of his old school mates.

They leave the pub an hour or so later, getting into the Uber Gemma has called for. She gets in the front, Lottie in the middle in the backseat, Harry and Louis on either side of her. Louis fiddles with his phone, trying to upload a picture of him and his sister they took earlier. Lottie cuddles into his side, and he shifts, bringing his arm around her shoulder and resting it across her collarbones. She takes his hand in both of hers, watching him type. 

“I’m really enjoying the hashtag there, brother,” she mutters. “Making sure no one thinks I’m your girlfriend and all that.”

“I didn’t want to hear it out loud, Lots,” he exclaims, voice hoarse from drinking all night. 

“Stop shouting me ear off!” Louis rolls his eyes, but presses her closer. “And change your profile picture for god’s sake, Lou. Seriously,” she sighs. 

“Not you, too,” he groans. “Harry’s already given me shit for it. I’ll keep it if I want. End of.”

“Alright,” she sighs again, poking his tummy. “Keep it then. Troll.”

“Tosser.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I decided to split this update in two chapters, so make sure to read the next one as well :) I hope everyone are doing okay, and that you can enjoy some reading after everything that has happened this weekend. Much love xx
> 
> tumblr: [isthatyoularry](http://isthatyoularry.tumblr.com/)  
> twitter: [isthatyoularry](https://twitter.com/isthatyoularry)

The airport is filled with paparazzi. PR’s doing, certainly, but the uneasy feeling in Louis’ chest doesn’t subside as he looks out from the thin window next to the door. All they have to do is walk a hundred metres or so from the door and through the arrivals area and slip out the front doors, and then jump into one of the two escalades waiting for them. One for Louis and Lottie, and another for Harry; safety reasons. Louis is not even two per cent in the mood for this. 

Once it’s time to get a move on, Louis and Lottie exit first with an airport employee that has been walking them from the aeroplane. Harry is behind them with Alberto who had joined them earlier, not too far but not too close either, just enough for them to be in the same shot when one of the paps start filming them as they hurriedly walk through the airport. 

Two men instantly crowd in front of Harry as they walk, trudging with them all the way from the door to the cars. The sound of the shutters is a bit overwhelming, and the light from the flashes harsh, but when Louis glances at Harry the younger man is merely blinking. He is used to this, Louis knows, but it never stops baffling him how this can become someone’s every-day life. 

It’s different than the pap walk the night of the failed stunt. It’s less intense, less paps, but it’s also a longer walk, and it’s harder to block out the words they are calling at them. Lottie shoots Louis an affronted look when one of the guys shouts at Louis, asking him what ‘semi-sexual’ means. Louis tightens his hand on his bag, and proceeds to ignore the fuck out of him. 

After nearly a week free of the duties of Harry’s celebrity life, getting back into it head first like this feels like a cold shower. Louis is already tired from the flight, and having his sister with him he feels even more protective than he does with Harry alone.

“Are you gay then?!” the pap calls just when Louis is about to slip into the car after Lottie, having endured the same ‘semi-sexual’ questions for a full two minutes now. Now, Louis first thinks the question is directed at Harry, but when he looks up his mate is already out of sight.

Anger seizes him for a split second, and he spins around. “Why don’t you fockin’ ask something you’re actually interested in for more than a bloody headline? Show some bloody respect, ya fockin’ prick.”

He slams the door shut behind him, and instantly covers his face in his hand, moaning loudly. 

“Lou, are you allowed to —” Lottie starts, but Louis cuts her off. 

“Of course not,” he sighs. “Shit.” 

It’s four AM, his head is spinning, and he just lost his cool and gave the pap that fucking headline anyway. God. Their car starts moving, and Louis has never been more grateful.

Everything has been a bit stressful the last few days. A girl had sworn on Twitter that she had seen Harry and Louis kiss in a pub in Manchester. As she has a big amount of followers on the website it caught attention, and the story escalated when another account updating other fans on Harry and his band mates’ lives retweeted her tweets. Jeff had not been happy after their names had trended worldwide once again, and he had rung them up, asking how the fuck it had come about, considering the girl tweeting was the same person Harry had taken a fan picture with the same night, giving her more than the slightest advantage in making people believe her. Louis’ Instagram picture from the same evening, suggesting that he had in fact been out at a pub that night as well, in Manchester no less, was not helpful.

“Lies,” Harry had told Jeff, ignoring the alarmed look Louis shot him. It was certainly _not_ lies, because Louis distinctly remembers having Harry’s tongue in his mouth, tasting like fruity vodka and something else he couldn’t determine. 

“She tweeted that she has proof, Harry!” he hissed at him when they had ended the phone call from Jeff. “Why would you lie to Jeff about what happened? Because you do remember, don’t you? You weren’t _that_ drunk.”

Harry looked away stubbornly, evading Louis’ eyes at all costs. “I don’t want him to get all up in this, and try to use it,” he shrugged tightly. 

Louis stared at him in confusion. “ _What?_ ” he asked, oblivious to Harry’s reasoning. “Why not? Why don’t you want him to know, because if he does then he can fix this. Now he thinks she’s lying and when some sort of proof does appear it will be too late.”

“Can I just keep some things to myself?!” Harry had replied harshly, suddenly staring at Louis with both anger and pleading in his eyes. 

Louis couldn’t argue with him, because he gets it, to an extent. Harry’s life always seems to be splashed onto tabloids, and the entire world think they know him. He understands that he doesn’t want Jeff to meddle in his private life, to use it for the PR schemes, but in this particular case… would it not be for the best to tell him what happened? If the girl does in fact have proof that they snogged then it could actually out him. It could ruin everything. 

He is not going to tell Jeff, he decided that. It’s for Harry, because he asked him not to, but for the last days worry has been stirring in his stomach, the impending release of whatever footage the girl might have hanging over his head like thundering cloud. He wonders if it makes him a good friend or not, when he does what Harry wishes him to while he believes doing the opposite would be better for him. 

Along with that, _The Depictor_ posted their online article a few days before they left for L.A. They mentioned that Harry specifically said he didn’t have a _celebrity crush_ , but that he seemed rather chummy as he hung out on the set with a close male pal, who may or may not be the same man he was spotted driving around West Hollywood a week earlier. The rumours about the kiss were once again spurred on. 

It’s getting a bit much, and he thinks Harry’s PR team might agree. Harry has barely been spotted anywhere without Louis for the last month and a half, and since the breakup rumours about Liam and Sophia have subsided there is only Zayn’s relationship with Gigi Hadid to use for distraction. He has been told that Niall doesn’t have the same PR team when it doesn’t come to his band commitments as the rest of them, which is why it’s harder for Jeff to simply tell him to do something newsworthy to distract the fans and the public. Harry and Louis have been told to lay low for now, PR not wanting any more focus on the alleged kiss than there already is — after having both of them spotted at the airport in Los Angeles, of course. Most probably to have people know they are in Los Angeles together, without evidence to be drawn attention to.

Louis fucked it up, however, by letting a fucking pap get under his skin. Which is just great. Fucking great. 

They spend the ride to Harry’s house in silence, Lottie squeezing his arm and keeping her hand there until they reach the gated community. He thinks he hears her mumble the word ‘posh’ under her breath as they pass the mansion with the sculpted bushes. Louis is certain that if Harry ever gets one of those he will be a laughing stock to the entire Tomlinson house, including Gemma.

Harry’s car stops in the driveway, and Louis and Lottie’s by the curb. With their luggage they make their way up to the house, Harry not far behind. Louis unlocks the door with the keys Harry gave him the first week of staying in Los Angeles so he would be able to come and go as he pleases, and taps in the code to stop the alarm system from going off when they enter. It doesn’t take long for them to drop their bags in the hallway, and head upstairs. 

Harry shows Lottie to the room that will be hers for her stay, promising a tour of the house in the morning. Louis sheds his jeans before he is even in his room, and throws them along with his socks onto the bed from the doorway. Harry says goodnight as he passes him, and disappears, and Louis is left standing at the entrance of his bedroom, chest feeling uncomfortably tight. 

He pulls off his grey hoodie, tugging his t-shirt off in the go, but puts the hoodie on once more. Without waiting he leaves the room and strolls down the hall, not knocking before he enters Harry’s bedroom. 

Harry is already in bed, the lights are off, and it looks like he’s shirtless. Louis runs a hand over his face and lifts the covers, sliding underneath and lying down next to the other boy. Harry is resting on his side, curls splayed on the pillow behind him. His back facing Louis is muscled, and in the darkness the shadows enhance his bones, making him resemble some sort of painting. Louis shifts closer until his shoulder barely brushes skin. 

“What are you thinking?” Harry mumbles sleepily when Louis still hasn’t said anything a few minutes later, remaining still. 

“I fucked up,” he whispers back. Harry doesn’t reply immediately, and Louis closes his eyes. It doesn’t do much of a difference; his fringe and the hood over his head was already covering most of his sight. “I swore at the paps. Proper told them off.”

It takes a couple of seconds of silence, but then surprisingly Harry starts to chuckle, the sound muffled against the pillow. 

“I know,” he hums, and Louis looks over to his unmoving head. Louis can literally _hear_ him smiling. “I heard you.”

“Jeff will _kill_ me, H.”

Harry rolls over, sporting a large grin, on the verge of a laugh. He wraps his arm over Louis’ torso, nose nuzzling into his shoulder near his armpit. Louis’ closest hand moves a few centimetres, fingertips brushing Harry’s hip, and he can feel him shiver.

“It was hot,” is the only thing Harry says after that, and they lie in silence until they fall asleep, Harry’s breath warm against Louis’ hoodie, and Louis’ fingertips light against his skin. 

Waking up in the morning feels like having been in a coma for months. Harry is like a heavy, heavy octopus, tangled simultaneously on top of and around him. Louis wonders how he can breathe with the way his nose and mouth are pressed against his bicep.

He wakes him a few minutes later with a squeeze to his arm and a few strokes to his back, eventually pinching his hip when he only stirs slightly. Harry makes a noise of displeasure, snuggling further into the inside of Louis’ elbow. 

“Coffee,” Louis hums. “I need coffee.”

“No,” Harry weakly protests, voice raspy with sleep. 

“Yes,” he disagrees. “Up we go…” He pulls at him until he is at least partly off the bed, and eventually manages to get him out from the covers completely. Harry clings to him like a koala, hands slipping into the pocket of his hoodie and nose burying into his neck, seemingly deciding not to let go. Louis chooses to roll with it and slowly steps forward, Harry following like a heavy sack of potatoes. 

His knees are pressing into the back of Louis’ thighs when he stops in the corridor outside his room. He can feel his hands pressing against his tummy through the fabric, fingers splayed and pressed as close as possible. If it weren’t for the pressure of his thumbs, Louis would have considered that Harry might have fallen asleep attached to him. He feels him exhale, hot air brushing over his neck, and something coils in his stomach. 

“What are you two doing?”

Louis looks up, slightly startled, glancing down the hall where he finds Lottie at the top of the stairs. She’s in grey, patterned workout tights, only a sports bra covering a chest, and her hair is done up in a large bun, a headphone sitting in her ear. 

“Just woke up,” he grunts coarsely. “What are _you_ doing?”

“Was doing some cardio outside.”

“Who are you?” Louis asks in repulsion. 

“Jetlag,” she explains, and adds, “Were you two sleeping together?” 

“…technically, yes.” Louis nods slowly, and Harry mumbles something nondescript into his neck. 

“I… do not remember you two being that close, but okay then,” she says, frowning in a confused manner. She points at her room with a thumb. “I’m gonna shower.”

“Mm-hm,” Louis nods, and starts to navigate toward the stairs. Lottie passes them with weird look that he ignores, and he proceeds to actually manage to bring them both downstairs unscathed. He deposits Harry in one of the kitchen chairs, and starts the coffee machine. 

“We’re running out of coffee.”

He moves on to the fridge, studying its contents with a frown. 

“We’re out of milk.”

He peers into the tub of yoghurt. 

“This is old.”

He turns around to complain to Harry, but he finds the other man lying across the kitchen table, asleep. Louis sighs, crossing his arms and leaning against the worktop. 

He is impossibly endearing, isn’t he. Just falling asleep in the middle of breakfast. Louis walks up to him slowly, leaning down until his lips are brushing his ear. He waits a second before belting, “Wake up, sleepyhead!”

Harry startles instantly, jerking back and knocking his head into Louis’ eyebrow. Louis yelps, clutching his forehead while Harry is still flailing, practically stumbling out of his chair and onto the floor. Louis can’t but laugh at Harry’s uncoordinated body, but it’s mixed with winces as his eyebrow is more than burning. He doubles over, groaning and giggling simultaneously at Harry grunting helplessly on the floor, clutching the side of his head.

“Why did you do that?!” he moans, half-crying, half-laughing where he lies.

“I don’t know,” Louis groans back, but reaches a hand down to help him up. Harry takes it, heavily pulling himself up as he laments in muttering noises. 

He’s a lot bigger than Louis and weighs a fair bit more, thus making Louis stumble as he gets onto his feet. He grabs his arm to steady him, the other landing on his hip. When Louis has regained his balance he smiles up in gratitude, and rubs him affectionately on the plate of his chest. 

“Sorry for waking ya,” he apologises, touching his own brow. It feels a lot like he has a bruise coming. 

“You’re an arse, that’s for sure,” Harry agrees, and Louis rolls his eyes, shifting on his feet. It is then that he becomes aware of Harry’s hands, still cradled around him. His smile remains on his face as he looks up at Harry, watching him smile right back at him unquestioningly. 

Louis swallows, clearing his throat. “Ahum, so when’s that, uh, meeting?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

“Cool…” Harry’s hands are still on him in the same places, thumb rubbing his side. Louis is very aware he is only in pants and a hoodie. “I was thinking that Lottie might want to go out and do some shopping, so perhaps we could borrow your car? Or you could drop us off before the meeting.”

Harry shrugs. “Whatever’s fine.” He smiles down warmly, and there’s a little goo in the corner of his eye, and his hair looks like a mess. 

“So pretty…” Louis says, poking him in the tummy. “Pillow mark on your cheek and everything.” Harry’s eyes widen, and he rubs at his face as if it will help. Louis chuckles, tugging his hand away, fingers encircling his wrist. Harry doesn’t say anything, only blinks down at Louis unexpectingly, but it doesn’t feel entirely casual either. There are no words on Louis’ tongue for the first time in his entire life, and he is not sure he’s okay with that feeling. 

“Harry!” It’s Lottie calling, sounding as though she is standing at the top of the stairs, interrupting whatever it is they are doing. “How do you turn on the bloody shower?!”

Harry sighs, fingers tightening on Louis for just a moment. “I’ll be there!” he calls, but doesn’t look away from Louis as he speaks. He takes a step back, and Harry let’s him go and leaves the kitchen to help Lottie out. 

Louis leans back against the worktop again, touching his battered brow, trying not follow Harry’s back with his gaze. He manages to look away right before he is out of sight, something sitting weird in his stomach. They have never been shy about looks and touches before, but right then they were _staring_ at each other. 

Before he can ponder it, he can hear his mobile making shrill noises from upstairs. Now that he receives more important phone calls than ever in his life he has made sure his settings are on the loudest option. He isn’t quite okay with that either, he thinks as he trudges upstairs and the annoying bloody ringtone only gets louder. 

He sighs when he gets up and sees Glenne’s name on the display, already knowing she is calling on Jeff’s behalf about the paparazzi situation the previous night. He expected a call, but he was not looking forward to it. He forces himself to answer, and sits down on the bed, bracing himself for the berating coming his way.

The following day Harry has his meeting with the band and the music label. They are discussing the upcoming music video for ‘Never Enough’ with the director, which will be out a week after the album release. Louis heard some of the chatter during the promotion days in London, and it seems the schedule around the release date will be hectic and tight. With a bit less than month and a half left the heavy promotion is nearing. 

Louis and Lottie have spent the day shopping. Harry had practically shoved his credit card into Lottie’s hand so she could get herself something nice, and Louis had only given him a small roll of his eyes. Proud as he is of his sister, he can truthfully say he doesn’t even have to think about warning her not to abuse Harry’s generosity. 

“Do you even know what a job is?” he asks her as they look at bags at Givenchy, feeling very out of place in his Vans, black sunnies, and oversized wine-coloured Adidas t-shirt. 

“And that comes from you? You don’t even try. You say you want to be a proper teacher, but then you’re so reluctant to take the jobs you’re offered. Sorry to be frank, but if you want the good jobs you’ll have to go through the shitty ones first, too.”

“I know that. You’re eighteen, you’re not supposed to be talking like this. You sound like Fizzy.”

“Fizzy is younger than me.”

“What’s your point?” he scowls. 

She stares at him with a wrinkled nose. “What?”

“Whatever,” he mutters, poking a black leather bag.

Lottie rolls her eyes. “You’re scared of growing up. Always have been.”

He hates her so much. 

“I’m not _scared_.” Twenty-five and the proper adult-adult life is far too close, is all.

“Excuse me,” someone says behind them, and they turn to find a girl there, looking at Louis with big eyes. She must be twenty, or at least nineteen, and her hair is curly and black, body small but curvy. 

“Yes?” Louis asks frowning. 

“Are you Louis Tomlinson?”

“Um, yeah?” 

“I’m Chay,” she says, “I’m a big fan.”

“Fan?” 

“Yeah,” she nods, swallowing nervously. And, oh. Fan of Harry’s band, a fan of _Harry_ , and she recognised him. Oh, dear. This is the first time this has happened to him, excluding the incident in the shop with Alberto a while ago.

“Uh, nice to meet you,” he gets out, smiling awkwardly. Lottie is looking at him with arched brows, clearly unaccustomed to seeing him nervous. 

“Erm,” the fan, Chay, says, “I’m sorry if this is rude of me, but can I ask you something a bit personal?”

Louis blanches. She is going to ask about Harry, isn’t she? He knows it. Shit. Oh, fuck, is his head nodding? Why is he nodding?

Still no proof of the kiss in Manchester has turned up, but it’s still nagging in the back of his head. What if it is out, though, and Louis has yet to be told? What if this girl knows? His heart beats harshly in his chest as he waits for her to speak, and his fingers are almost trembling at his sides. What the fuck would he even say to a question like that without accidentally outing Harry? He is screwed. 

“Well,” she begins, seeming slightly nervous. “My sister is a very big fan of the band, too, and you’re obviously close to Harry… My point is, she’s demi , too, and knowing that you are is so important to her. She’s struggled a bit with how to identify, and you seem so confident about who you are. Like, we saw the pap video and read the article, and it’s in your Twitter bio…” She takes a breath. “I don’t know if you might have some encouraging words for her I could pass on? We don’t know anybody else who is demi, and I just couldn’t pass up on the opportunity when I saw you. Sorry if it’s not something you want, or do. I really don’t mean to bother you.”

“Oh,” Louis breathes, his entirely chest contorting with the strangest of feelings. “Oh,” he says again. He blinks rapidly, his foggy brain taking a moment to realise he is not being asked if he and Harry snogged on the DL. “Okay, sure.”

He never thought of that, until now. ‘ _Demisexual. Look it up_.’ is exactly what his bio on Twitter says, nothing more and nothing less. He never considered how the paparazzi even knew about his sexuality, but it must from there. And now people know that Harry’s friend is demisexual. This girl standing right in front of him is proof of how enormously important that is. 

“Would you mind if I filmed it so she could watch?” she asks sheepishly.

“Uh, I guess there would be no harm done.” He agrees, and she brings out her phone, holding it up. “What’s her name?” 

“Jess.”

“Alright,” he takes a breath, feeling somewhat awkward as he waves to the camera. “Hi, Jess! It’s Louis… Harry’s, uh, friend. Heard you’re demi just like me.” 

Right, okay, he’s got this. This is his shit. Home turf. 

“I heard you might be having a bit of a rough time? Well, from what I can say with experience is that the thing with all these labels is that they are categories to put yourself in, and those can be helpful to some people, but to other they just make everything all that much more confusing. 

“Personally, I see myself _somewhere_ on the asexual spectrum, and I happen to be a lot like the definition of demisexual. That doesn’t mean I’m exactly like the encyclopaedia says I should be. Sexuality is fluid, and different to everyone. And… when I came to terms with how I am, it was about being comfortable with _me_ , and coming to terms with the way I am. I have a very good friend who helped me feel safe in who I am, and after that I felt like fuck what everybody else say. 

“I obviously don’t know how you feel, but what I’m getting at is, don’t wait for the people around you to validate you, because you validate yourself. You are important, because you are you and the ground you stand on is as much yours as anybody else’s. You are who you are, and if someone tries to stand in your way then fuck them. Or punch them in the face because gross,” he chuckles, perhaps a bit self-consciously.

He takes a deep breath. 

“And if it helps hearing it… I support you. Harry certainly fucking supports and loves you. He has been here for me my entire life, if he met you he would be the best person in the world to talk to. Not just him, though, like, the entire band support you. Even my silly sister over there supports you. Like, look, she has a little demi tassel on her keys and everything… Sorry, I’m digressing, sorry. But yeah, there are so many people that love you, and your sister here seems fucking great. Sometimes relying on family and friends is something you need, but remember that you validate yourself, even if you need a little help from your friends.” He inhales deeply again, and he suddenly realises he has been talking for far too long. “Sorry, I’ve been rambling. I get carried away when it comes to these things. Uhm… Hope you’re having a good day, Jess. Much love. Bye.”

He watches the girl in front of him end the recording, and when she lowers her phone there a proper tears in her eyes. 

“Thank you so much,” she breathes. “That was so much more than I expected.” 

Louis doesn’t know what the protocol with these sorts of meetings is, but he doesn’t think before he raises his arms and hugs her for a short moment. 

“Thank you,” she says again, letting him go. 

“No problem,” he promises, and gives her a smile. She nods, blinking away tears, but smiles happily as she backs away, giving them big wave. 

“Proper celebrity you are,” Lottie teases as she comes up beside him, but she slings her arm around his waist, tucking into his side, head against his shoulder. “You sound very cool when you talk about those things.”

Louis chuckles, feeling slightly flustered still. He can’t believe that happened, to be entirely honest. He hopes the girl’s sister doesn’t thinks it’s lame, but he doesn’t actually think she will. When he was younger he would have loved getting a message like that from someone who was like him.

“That was kinda cool,” he smiles, looking down at his feet. 

“I’m proud of you.”

He snorts. “I didn’t even do anything.”

“I mean for being you. Like, being so stupidly brave and cool.” Her arm tightens around him significantly. Louis has no idea what to say, and he simply smiles self-consciously and tugs on a lock of her hair. 

“Let’s get us some coffee, alright? And food. I’m starving.”

They end up grabbing lunch at a sushi bar, spending an hour or so just chatting. It’s been a long time since he hung out with his sister like this, even when he was still in Manchester. Just talking feels incredibly nice. He misses his family more than he realises sometimes.

“Look at this,” Lottie says, sliding her phone over the table. “I think this is the article the girl was referring to. It’s gained quite a lot of interest. Even some of the bigger sites seems to have picked it up.”

“Oh,” Louis exhales, looking down at the article written by a British gossip site, Sugarscape. 

The first thing he thinks as he reads is how fucking ridiculous the word ‘man-friend’ is. What is _happening_ to society? Honestly. Secondly, is that now he is a rumoured _beau_. He doesn’t think he has heard the word ‘beau’ uttered aloud once in his life. 

They begin with summarising what occurred at the airport with a disturbing number of flattering adjectives about Harry’s looks. Louis knows he is gorgeous, but _enthralling endless smoulder_? It looks more like a scowl than a smoulder to Louis, but perhaps that’s only because he knows him. 

Apart from the ridiculous names of identities they assign Louis — man-friend, beau, rumoured smooch — and the many, many adjectives used, they do a fairly good job of explaining the meaning of demisexuality in the end. They’ve taken the liberty of doing their research quite well, which is pleasing, and Louis isn’t entirely dissatisfied after finishing it. 

They call out the paps for being invasive and rude, but he figures it’s probably what they always say to appease their audience — fans. They’re probably pleased they asked so they’re able to write about it now. 

At any rate, Louis is happy they are spreading some knowledge. Harry Styles’ man-friend is on the asexual spectrum, and Louis doesn’t count surely, but he knows big profiles that are out can mean a lot to young people struggling with their sexuality. That there at least is someone out there smiling because Harry Styles has man-friends that are a form of asexual is heart-warming. He hadn’t even thought of this aspect when deciding to help Harry out with this. 

Maybe even the paparazzi will actually look it up, he thinks, but. Well. Maybe not. 

“You’re a famous demisexual, bro,” Lottie grins, and he swats at her. 

Harry picks them up in the late afternoon, and they grab some ingredients for dinner at the shop near Harry’s neighbourhood on the way back. Spaghetti Bolognese is on the menu, and as Harry pours pasta into boiling water Louis recounts the whole affair with the girl in the shop. Harry smiles widely at him the entire time, and squeezes his shoulder once he is finished. 

Louis stirs the Bolognese, Harry watching over his shoulder. “Very cool,” Harry agrees with him, and Louis can feel his breath on his neck. “She might even post it online, you know.”

Louis frowns, looking back at him. “It was for her sister.”

“Well, sometimes they post the videos anyway. Let’s look.” Harry fetches his phone from his pocket, starting to scout Twitter. And, he is right, of course. The video is up, including a long recountment of the fan’s meeting with him. Harry reads it out loud, the fan describing Louis as very adorable, a bit nervous, but good-looking, and sweet. Louis isn’t sure if she blacked out during the encounter, because he only remembers being very, very awkward. But, it seems like her sister loved the video, which is all he cares about. Harry taps the sister’s follow button after reading out a couple of her tweets.

“Sounds like you were very cute,” he teases, and then proceeds to give him an impromptu kiss on the cheek, face lingering closely. Louis blushes, looking down at the food. 

“Wasn’t cute,” he mutters, but his face still feels warm. Goddammit. “So, how was the meeting? Come up with any cool ideas?”

“Actually, uh, yeah.” 

Louis turns around, and when he does he finds Harry remaining in his spot, hands on the worktop on either side of Louis, slightly hunched over. Louis arches a brow, crossing his arms. He clears his throat, looking a bit nervous for a second. Louis crooks his head to the side, prompting him to go on. 

Harry bites his lip, starting explaining slowly. “We decided on doing a quite… aesthetic video. It will be in black and white, with just us in front of the camera.”

“Sounds cool?”

“And,” he clears his throat, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks, “well, have you seen Panic! At The Disco’s video for _Girls/Girls/Boys_?” He raises his brows expectantly.

“Yeah, the one where he’s shirtless and like touching his chest and stuff,” Louis nods. “You’re doing that?”

“Well…” Harry is bright red in the face. “It’s gonna be bit more… erotic, I guess. Like, someone standing behind us, and their hands sneaking around and touching us. Like… running their fingers through our hairs and over the stomach and stuff… You know the song, so, like, it’s gonna be a little steamy…?”

Louis nods slowly. “Alright. Who’s gonna do the touching and things?”

Harry glances down at his feet. “Liam thought it’d be fun if Sophia did him, and then the guys from the label thought we might as well milk the coming out as much as possible, so… erm.” He rubs his neck, looking anywhere but Louis. “I was wondering… if — if you would, you know… do me.”

Louis’ mouth falls open, stunned. “W—what, me?”

Harry runs a nervous hand through his hair. “It’s just, like, it’d be cool for the video since I would just have come out, and it’d be weird if I had a girl… and they thought… I mean it’s gonna be a bit intimate I guess, I understand if you don’t want to. Some dancer will probably do it —”

“No, no, no. I’ll do it,” Louis finds himself interrupting, hands up, not even having thought it through. “I’ll do it.”

Harry looks up, cheeks pink, and eyes big. “You will?”

Louis swallows, nodding. “Y-yeah.” He clears his throat, fingers landing on the plates of Harry’s chest, fiddling with his shirt, and he is suddenly more self-conscious of what he is doing with his hands than he has ever been with Harry. “I mean, it helps you, right? Helps selling our romance, so…”

Harry nods. “Right.”

Louis nods back, aware that he still has a loose grip on Harry’s shirt. Harry’s arms are caging him in, and his face is close. God. Harry has a big head. It’s bigger than Louis’. Everything about him is big. Hands, eyes, mouth. 

“What are you doing?”

Louis jolts, and Harry’s grip on the worktop around him relents. Lottie is staring at them, iPad under her arm. She’s frowning at them with the same look from the previous morning. Her eyes zone in Louis’ fingers gripping Harry’s t-shirt. Louis drops his hands.

“Just talking,” Louis says, clearing his throat awkwardly for the fiftieth time. “I’m gonna be in Harry’s music video.”

“Really?” Lottie looks surprised. “That’s pretty cool. What are you gonna do?”

Ah, Christ. 

“Just be there in the… background,” he says. “Harry can explain it again later. What’re you up to?”

She shrugs. “Going through Twitter a bit. Niall retweeted your video, can you believe?”

Louis opens his mouth, gaping. “He’s got like forty million followers?!”

“Cool right?”

Harry cackles, slinging his arm around his waist before he faints. “What did I tell you? Niall loves you. And anyway, I think they are trying to get some interaction going between our families while you and I stay out of the public eye.” 

“Why?”

“Makes it look more legit, I guess. Plus it keeps us linked while we don’t have to do anything ourselves.” 

Louis can’t help but tuck into his side, sighing. “This is pretty sick, you know? Niall basically stated he supports my sexuality to millions of people. Kind of awesome.”

Harry smiles down at him. “Maybe I should, too? 

“You don’t have to do that, love.”

“Why not? You’re my alleged boyfriend. I’m supposed to be supportive. Plus, I probably should have done that years ago anyway…”

“What you’re supposed to do is lay low, H. You don’t have to do this now. When you’re out you can do everything you want.”

Harry sighs. “Just a month and a half away. Feels surreal.”

“How’re you gonna celebrate?” Lottie asks. 

Harry looks up from Louis, grinning wickedly at her. “Get fuckin’ wasted,” he snickers. They laugh, Louis squeezing his side warmly. His stomach growls loudly a minute later, and Louis remembers the food they’ve got on the stove. 

They eat in front of the TV, watching some show Lottie is catching up on. Harry gets them a bottle of white wine that they empty with dessert (mug cakes), and Louis falls asleep with Lottie and Harry tucked in on either side of him on the sofa. 

The following day is spent by the pool. Louis works on reinforcing his tan while Lottie and Harry swim, snuggling up to a jumper under his head. Lottie comes over and splatters him with water while filming on her phone, Harry cackling like an idiot in the background while Louis feebly tries to hide behind the jumper. Of course she has to go and post it on her Instagram account to all her friends. Dickheads, the both of them. 

The whole laying low thing doesn’t work out. Apparently some fan found Lottie’s Instagram account and saw the video, recognising the laugh in the background, and more so the jumper Louis has been sleeping on all day. Apparently it’s one that Harry has worn in public a lot, having something to do with that bloody American football team of his. 

It’s barely been a week since the airport pics and already they have failed at keeping their interaction on the downlow. That it was a genuine mistake doesn’t seem to help when Glenne calls to chide them. 

There’s a party at Snoop Dogg’s house in Hollywood that night. Liam and Niall are going, and Louis is so excited when he hears about it that he is pretty sure Harry takes pity on him and suggests they go, too. He also hits him in the head when he asks if he has got any gold necklaces lying around. It hurts, and Louis was only joking anyway. 

“Remember to be cool, Lottie,” he says as they are on their way.

She shoots him a look. “The only one who will be uncool about this is you, Louis,” she bites out. 

“Children,” Harry chuckles, “remain calm. These are just normal people. Don’t embarrass me.”

“Dickface.”

“Arsehole.”

“I was kidding,” Harry whines, but before they can say more the taxi comes into a stop. It’s fairly late already, and Louis can hear music and see lights as soon as he steps out of the car. He is not sure what to expect, but he hopes he looks alright in just a black t-shirt and jeans, even though Harry has assured him at least a hundred times already. 

The man himself is in a too large pink, polka dot shirt, buttoned up to just below the edge of his butterfly tattoo. He is sporting a small smirk as he places a hand on each of their back, leading them up the driveway to the large mansion. 

The house is big and white with several floors. Louis thinks he sees the entrance to a large garage before as they stroll up to the house, probably containing multiple flashy cars. If it wasn’t already obvious that Snoop is loaded, you certainly get the idea when you step inside the mansion. Everything is modern and designer made, wide surfaces and white walls. It’s posh and looks expensive, but not quite in the homey way that Harry’s place manages to feel. Perhaps there is more than one reason for that, though. 

Harry sees someone he knows, and after that the mingling is in full force. There seems to be a lot of people he knows on a fairly familiar level, not many of them actual celebrities, but industry friends, people working behind the scenes, producers and writers and the likes. There is the occasional famous person they see, none of which make Louis actually weak in the knees. An hour in, Harry has introduced them to various industry pals, they have yet to see Snoop himself, and Louis is comfortably buzzed from a couple of mixed drinks. 

“Are the lads here?” Lottie asks, referring to Liam and Niall. Harry shrugs, but takes his phone out presumably to check. They’re in the kitchen, and Louis is making them vodka sodas. He never realised arriving what a casual party it really is, no bars only a plethora of various alcoholic beverages stationed in the kitchen like a normal house party. 

Louis hands them their drinks, nodding along to the remix one of Snoop’s own songs currently being blasted from the music system throughout the house. “I haven’t been to a club in so long,” he comments, missing it only a bit. He would love to dance, but he has yet to see anybody letting loose, most people talking in groups or sitting outside to smoke.

“We should go then,” Harry says, and as though he can tell what Louis is thinking, he adds, “I’ll even let you grind on me.”

Louis snorts, pinching his waist. Harry squirms away, but retaliates, and when he is done he keeps his hand on his hip, resting there comfortably. Louis sips on his drink, trying not to think about how easily his own body simply inches into Harry’s on its own accord. 

“Would you get me in?” Lottie arches a brow. 

“Naturally,” Harry grins around his drink, dimples popping out. “They wouldn’t even blink if you came with my entourage.”

“You sounded like such an arse saying that,” Lottie says, wrinkling her nose. “You’re not the chosen one, Harry.”

“But I am the chosen one.” That earns him a kick in the shin, and he takes a couple steps back, not releasing Louis, but bringing him with him. Louis holds out the hand with the drink that isn’t clutched around Harry’s t-shirt, trying not to spill. They’re menaces, both of them. 

“I want to find Niall,” he says instead of chastising them for making his drink spill over his hand. 

Harry puts his drink down on the worktop, and digs into his pocket to find his mobile. “They’re outside on the patio,” he says after a moment. “Let’s find them.” 

Exchanging his phone for his drink, he tugs Louis with him with Lottie on the other side. It takes them a few minutes to find the right place, because it seems Snoop has more than one patio, on various sides of his Hollywood house. The right one is on the west side, and it comes with a swimming pool facing the greenery surrounding the mansion. 

Niall and Liam are sitting at a table along the panorama windows of the house. Niall has a guitar in his lap, and there is a large group of other people surrounding them. Louis thinks he recognises Jade Thirlwall from Little Mix, a band he once met when they were performing at the same place as Harry. It was at least two years ago now, however, and he doesn’t think she even remembers him. 

“Is that Selena?” Lottie hisses as they approach the group, and Harry pokes her in the cheek. 

“Look at that blush…”

“Shut up, Harry.” She slaps his hand away. Harry only cackles, and replaces his arm around Louis’ shoulders this time. 

“Oi! Harry!” Liam calls, and they come into a stop at the table. People around them look up, and smile and cheer in recognition. Niall makes room for Lottie by his side as soon as Harry has introduced her as Louis’ sister, and Harry himself fetches a chair from another table and tugs it into the one empty spot around the table. Louis sits down in the chair and pats his thighs, but he wouldn’t even have had to because Harry flops down in his lap without cue. 

“We’re singing old boyband tunes! Say one! Go!” Niall orders, and Harry snuggles back against Louis, not contemplating for more than a moment.

“Wouldn’t It Be Nice by The Beach Boys,” he suggests, and it doesn’t take long before Niall begins to strum on his guitar, everyone around the table joining in as he starts to sing. Harry joins in, too, and Louis begins to smile. He loves listening to him sing, and Harry’s voice is much deeper than everybody else’s, making it stand out in the chorus. He isn’t even warmed up, and among the group of people where more than a few are professional singers he still manages to be the most interesting voice of all of them. Louis might be biased. 

They go from The Beach Boys, to N’Sync, Backstreet Boys, and Westlife. From there they leave boybands and approach various hit songs by Justin Timberlake, and while Liam is impersonating him freakishly well as they sing Mirrors, Harry lights a cigarette and cuddles into Louis’ shoulder. He has always been a cuddly drunk, always loving being doted on during this stage of inebriation. He sucks on his cigarette, and sings along quietly with Louis. The people around them don’t seem to care, Harry not being in the centre of attention like he normally would be. 

Lottie seems to be chatting with Selena Gomez behind Niall’s back, and Louis figures it’s the alcohol that makes her brave enough to initiate a conversation. He probably should be keeping more of an eye on her, but she isn’t a baby, and she always seems to take care of herself. She doesn’t need him to baby her – on the contrary, she would give him a proper tell off in case he tried. 

Louis doesn’t know how long they stay out there on the patio, but people come and go, and genre of music switches from one to another in waves. Liam is locked in a conversation with some producer, and Niall is currently singing on a song Louis is fairly sure is from their upcoming album. He starts chatting with Liam, and in lack of things to do while Harry is talking to some dude that’s leaning on their chair, he tunes in. 

“Ah, I’m chuffed, man,” Niall says, leaning closer to his band mate. “We haven’t done a proper sexy video like that before. Gonna be brilliant. Louis is gonna do Harry, did he tell you he agreed? Legendary.”

“Really?” Liam says, excitement expressed clearly in his bulging eyes. “Sick! This promo season is wicked. Like, not just good stuff, but man Jeff has really brought it all.”

“We haven’t released anything for two years, I bet he is fucking stressed about it,” Niall cackles. “Scooter said he kept pressuring the deal with Selena,” he grins.

“I feel bad for the fans,” Liam laughs, shaking his head. “Harry and Louis are really riling them up.”

Louis is listening far too intently to be proud of his eavesdropping, not that Liam and Niall seem to be keeping their voices down. Harry is still locked in conversation, seemingly unaware of what they are talking about, but Louis finds it too fascinating not to listen in. Having someone else’s perspective on the situation is not only interesting, but comforting for some reason. He tightens his arms around Harry’s waist, which is probably more comforting, but in completely different ways. 

“They’ve made me tweet ten times since last weekend just to bring the attention off them. I don’t know what the two of them did,” Liam sighs. 

“Some girl said she saw them snogging,” Niall grins. “And the attention to it was probably because I gave her a follow,” he cackles. “The social media manager wasn’t happy.”

“You shit!” Liam exclaims, and whacks him in the shoulder. “It’s your fault then, not theirs. They snog in public, and you’re the one who makes my life more difficult. It probably would have stayed low key if you hadn’t.”

“What are you two gossiping about?” Harry says, a bit more aware than Louis thought. 

Liam ignores him, while Niall only smirks. “So, do you then? Did you snog?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “What’s it to you?”

“I’m curious,” he says, wiggling a brow. “I’d love to know.”

“None of your business,” Harry mutters, which practically has them wheezing. Louis doesn’t entirely understand what is that funny about his answers, but he can’t help the upward tug of his lip watching them giggle. Meanwhile, Harry stares with narrowed eyes. 

Louis digs his fingers into his sides just to make him smile again. It works fairly well. 

“I’ll just wait for proof then,” Niall challenges after Harry has refused to disclose any information, and digs out his phone from his back pocket. “Gonna get notifications for her tweets, and then all I have to do is wait…” 

“D’you believe she has proof?” Louis asks, worry slowly starting to build in his gut again. Thinking of the kiss constantly makes him anxious, and the fact that Harry refuses to admit what a big deal it is makes it worse. 

Niall just cackles, eyes still on his phone. “You basically outed yourself now, mate. There was a snog then. I’m very pleased —” Niall visibly blanches, words stuck in his throat. 

“What?” Liam asks, all of them confused. 

“Uhm… she posted it,” he looks up unsurely, the three of them staring at him. “Your kiss. Like, she’s already, uh… Just ten minutes ago.” He looks up again, and then Louis is literally ripping the phone from his hands in less than a second. 

And there it is. 

It’s a bit grainy, but you can clearly tell that it is Harry and Louis who have for their arms around one another in a strange way, laughing into each other’s mouths. There are barely two centimetres parting their faces.

Louis shoves the phone into Harry’s chest, and leans back in the chair, grasping his head between his hands. Harry is still on his lap, but Louis can’t even focus on him. 

Shit. 

Fucking shit. Louis fucked up. Oh, fuck. 

“Lou,” Harry says, but Louis scowls at him, anger seizing him. Harry knows him, and Harry knows that Louis is a second away from losing it. He knows he is livid. 

He sighs loudly, exasperatedly, and stands from Louis’s lap. His sigh makes Louis angrier, and when Harry grabs the collar of his t-shirt to pull him from his seat, he slaps if off, but gets up nonetheless. Harry rolls his eyes, and instead grips Louis’ forearm in a firm grip and tugs him along. He sifts through crowds of people, the hold on Louis never relenting, and eventually he finds a bathroom that he locks them in. 

Everything is clean, every surface shiny and polished. Even the bloody toilet seat sparkles. 

“I told you this would happen!” Louis yells as soon as the door is locked. He makes a loud noise of frustration, starting to pace, and in hindsight he thinks it’s that — the pacing — that ticks Harry off in return.

“So? The picture didn’t even show anything that people hadn’t already figured themselves!”

“The point was that they would figure, Harry, not _know_! I can’t fucking believe… Jeff will murder me, Harry! I cannot believe I let you talk me into this! The papers are going to be all over it, and Jeff could have put a stop to it! Holy… Fuck, I am going to the other side, aren’t I?” His hands are practically shaking. “Goddammit, Harry!”

“So, it’s my fault?! I’m not the only one who kissed someone!” His green eyes are big, but the blatant fury in them is evident. 

“That’s not what I meant!” he yells, fists clenched because he doesn’t like how shaky he feels. “God, we can still fix this, right? We’ll just say that… Oh my God, there is literally no way to explain that away!” 

Harry stares at him. “Why are you _so_ nervous?” he bites out, jaw clenched and words cold. 

“Because I don’t want to fuck it up for you?!” This boy has got the thickest head in the world. “You’re pretty much outed Harry.” Fuck, fuck, fuck. “We shouldn’t have…” he mumbles as he paces. “It was reckless, and silly —”

“Don’t say that.” His words are as quiet as a whisper, but there is force behind it. “Please, don’t say that. It wasn’t _silly_.” 

Louis stares at him, coming into a stop in front of where Harry is leaning back against the sinks, hands on the edges, avoiding his eyes. His knuckles are whitening with the force he uses to clench his hands around the edge. Louis keeps staring, not understanding the pained expression on his face. 

Harry exhales, sounding exasperated more with himself all of a sudden. He fumbles with his words. “We should… get to do things that the entire world doesn’t know. Some things should get to remain just _ours_.” He takes a inhales breathily. “You and me, our relationship is already splashed onto the tabloids every week, and this is new to you, but to me it’s every week for the last six years. Don’t I get to keep some things to myself? Don’t we get to keep it as ours? Because you didn’t kiss me for the stunt, did you?”

“No,” Louis whispers. “Of course not.”

Harry steps forward, eyes pleading as he grasps both of Louis’ forearms in his hands, looking down and earnestly meeting his eyes. “Then please, just let it be ours.”

Louis swallows, unable to suppress the shivers that are speeding up his arms all the way to the back of his neck. He frowns, because Harry’s point is useless now, isn’t? Louis nods, a bit jerky, because he does understand why he didn’t want to tell Jeff, but that doesn’t matter anymore, does it? But he nods, and at that he doesn’t have to wait before Harry’s arms slip around his waist, hugging him tightly to himself. 

Louis raises his arms, gingerly winding them around the taller boy’s neck, getting onto his tiptoes. He feels Harry’s arms around him loosen slightly, but he doesn’t stop the embrace, only starts rubbing his warm palms over Louis’ back, motions soothing, yet the touch is spiking Louis’ blood pressure.

His shirt has slipped up on his back just a fraction, but Harry’s barest touch is there, finger tips feather-light. It’s intimate, and a bit scary, yet there is nothing in Louis that wants it to stop. His skin is prickling, his back prickling with goosebumps. 

“I just think it would have been for the best if we’d simply —”

Harry sighs loudly before he has even finished the sentence, stepping away with a scowl on his face. Louis reaches for him, fingers winding around his wrist. 

“Babe, it’s not up to _me_. It’s already out there. I’m angry because I’m just trying to look out for you.”

“Well, don’t!” he says, and he looks fucking upset about it. “Jeff is the one whose job is to fix it, so just shut up about it!”

There is a loud knock on the door then, someone yelling “Yo! Open the fucking door, it’s been ages!”

Harry runs a hand over his face in frustration, anger still evident in him when he rips the door open, and Louis glares out at the person interrupting. Which is some dude next to whom Wiz Khalifa is standing. 

“Hi,” Harry says, sounding slightly constipated. He grips Louis’ arm in a tight grasp, and pulls him with him out of the bathroom and past the two men. Louis is internally dying, gaping behind him at Wiz Khalifa. Harry’s grip on him doesn’t relent, however, and he doesn’t let him go until they are outside on the patio, where Niall and the gang are still hanging around. Harry sits back down in an empty chair next to Niall, who is now rolling a spliff and looking slightly like the reason for that is what happened earlier. Lottie is by his side, looking somewhat glassy eyed, and Louis would tell him off if it weren’t for the fact that Harry’s back is rigid where he sits, muscles tense. 

He takes the spliff from Niall when offered, and takes a drag with furrowed brows. Louis’ chest feels tight — not because of the drugs, but because he loathes fighting with Harry. Everything about it is uncomfortable, makes his skin itch, and he really can’t cope with Harry not speaking to him. 

When Harry leans back in the chair, having given the joint back after only one drag, Louis swallows and steps up behind him, gently placing his hands on his shoulders. Harry doesn’t say anything, but lets Louis slide them down his chest with as much affection as he can convey. He leans down and presses a little kiss to his ear.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, leaning in and hugging him tightly. He burrows into his neck, hiding his face there as he apologises for his part. “I’m just worried. I know you want your private life private, and the picture wasn’t that bad considering it wasn’t actually a kiss… but I’m just stressed. I understand where you’re coming from, but I just don’t agree in this case. I worry because I want the best for you, and now I sound like Mum, but I just don’t want to accidentally fuck this up.” He tightens his arms when he doesn’t get a reply. “I love you, and your coming out is important to me. I just want it to be right.” He gives his neck a small kiss, stroking his chest gently. “Harry…?”

He finally gets a small response when Harry’s hand lifts and squeezes Louis’ forearm. It remains there in the same spot, and Louis keeps hugging him tightly, nose pressed to the curve of his neck, inhaling him. 

“Sorry,” he whispers. “Sorry.”

Harry sighs beneath him, and pulls at his arm until he straightens up behind him, then tugs him around the chair and into his own lap. Louis sits, back against Harry’s chest, and he feels his chin land on top of his shoulder as he wraps his arms around him tightly. 

“If I’m okay with it, can’t you just be, too?” he asks quietly, words whispered into his bare neck, sending shivers across his skin. 

Louis’ stomach feels queasy, because he still does not entirely understand why Harry couldn’t let Jeff take care of it to begin with. If he had, then there would not be a scenario that any of them would have to be ‘okay with’. But Louis can feel Harry’s breath brush his hair, thighs warm beneath him, and he can’t do anything but nod. 

Harry squeezes him closer, and keeps his arms wound around him for the rest of the night. They remain sitting outside with Lottie, Liam and Niall, and whoever that comes and goes. Louis sees Wiz Khalifa walk past them at one point, and he is fairly sure he gives them a second look. Perhaps he’d heard about Harry and his boyfriend. It’s what they are all meant to believe, so. Except that they haven’t even tried tonight. They get a second look while being angry with one another. 

When they return home from the party in the morning, there is a cigarette tucked behind Louis’ ear, one he never had along with the other before jumping into the car picking them up. Harry steals it before he walks into his room without a word. Louis goes to sleep in his own bed, alone without a purple cocoon surrounding him, and it feels a bit lonely. 

He’s unable to fall asleep for a long time even though it’s almost light out. When he checks his Instagram for the fiftieth time in lack of things to do, there this time is something of interest up. 

Harry might not be able to sleep down the hallway, either. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second part of today's update. Enjoy :)
> 
> tumblr: [isthatyoularry](http://isthatyoularry.tumblr.com/)  
> twitter: [isthatyoularry](https://twitter.com/isthatyoularry)

Jeff and Glenne come over the day after the party at Snoop’s by noon. Harry’s curls are mussed and tangled, and Lottie looks like she went on a rave the previous night, lipstick smudged on her jaw. None of them have barely spoken this morning, having slept in late. 

“I have to figure out what brand she used,” Lottie mutters as she rubs at the faintly purple spot as they sit down at the kitchen table. “Good stuff.”

Glenne and Jeff have brought coffees and scones from Starbucks, and Louis picks a vanilla latte, sipping slowly as he waits for the verdict. Harry is on the other side of the table, blinking tiredly with bags under his eyes, looking as though he is ready to bring out his deadliest stare. He is still mad, Louis knows that, but what he isn’t sure of is if it’s Jeff who will be on the receiving end of that, or all of them. 

“I’m pissed off that you didn’t tell me,” Jeff says after the silence has wandered on for too long, keeping his eyes on the tablet on the table in front of him. He sips from his coffee. “And it was fucking stupid of you not to.” 

Harry crosses his arms, and does not say a word. Louis had expected as much. 

Louis inhales deeply, figuring he might as well go head then. “It was a silly kiss between friends,” he says earnestly. “God knows my mates back home go at it every now and then. Even Stan, and he’s got a long-term girlfriend.”

Jeff doesn’t even reply, and Glenne gives him a look that tells him it’s useless, while Harry’s brows are knitted even further. He doesn’t seem to like Louis’ way of helping, and Louis suddenly remembers the pained look in his eyes when he said the same thing last night. ‘Don’t say that’ he had said. 

“I’m royally pissed off, guys, _but_ we can use this to our advantage,” Jeff says after a long minute of silence. “We haven’t had anything candid like that of you yet, except for the video with the crew in London, and I suppose it helps you two look authentic.” Jeff sighs, and gives them both a sour look. “Telling you to lay low is entirely useless because you don’t freaking listen, but I fucking need you to try. This severely reinforces the beliefs among fans and the general public that you are indeed a couple, and we still have more than a month to keep you in the closet, Harry. Do you realise that you could have been actually outed?”

Harry doesn’t meet his eyes, only shrugs. 

“Harry,” Glenne says, voice softer than Jeff’s, but serious. “I know that you wanted to keep your kiss between the two of you, but you let that jeopardise your coming out. The picture could have been much worse. We need to do this correctly. You seriously cannot be outed. Your coming out must be an empowered choice, and not a pity story. This can’t be stressed enough.”

“Do you understand, Harry?” Jeff says when he doesn’t give much of a response. 

He nods reluctantly. 

“Say it.”

Harry looks up, face cold. “I get it,” he says.

“Look, we’ll try to have you two lay low until the end of the week. Then I’ll tell you to post something on social media, or something of the likes. And, oh, if you did not grasp it, lay low means stay out of fucking sight.”

“Jeff,” Glenne reprimands. “They get it.”

The man sighs, rubbing his brow. “I’m on your side, Harry. That’s why I’m up in your grill about this. I care about you, and your career. All I want is for your coming out to be as successful as possible.”

Harry only makes a grunt, chewing on his chocolate croissant. Louis watches him munch in silence, the air around the table not too tense, but certainly palpable.

After a minute, Jeff mutters, “Can’t help but wonder if you two actually are screwing —”

Harry chokes on his croissant, and Louis looks up with wide eyes in shock. Jeff stares at them as though their reaction is the most ridiculous thing he has seen in years, sighing. Louis looks over to Lottie, but she suddenly seems rather enthusiastically invested in her Danish. 

Louis clears his throat, awkward. “I’m demisexual, Jeff, I don’t —” he stutters.

“So? You two have been up in each other’s space your entire lives. It’s not so farfetched as you two make it seem.”

Harry is staring at his croissant, entirely silent, and Louis is internally fighting the blood rushing to his face.

“So freaking blunt, Jefe, please,” Glenne sighs then, interrupting before it can get more uncomfortable. She rolls her eyes. “Let’s finish breakfast, alright? So, am I wrong or not when I say you went to Snoop’s party last night? Selena Gomez was there, wasn’t she?”

Lottie nods, indulging her. “Yes, we sat around singing with Niall’s guitar for a bit. It was really cool. Her voice is sick.”

Louis tunes out after that, and starts plucking pieces off his own Danish. The crumbs fly over the table, but he carefully sweeps them into a pile with his fingers. Harry remains quiet for the rest of breakfast as well, and Louis can’t help but shoot Jeff a few looks as they eat. 

He doesn’t really get why Jeff would even say that. He and Harry are close friends, so he must a hundred per cent know that their relationship is not like that. They have always been close, and tactile, and there are other things about Harry that he must be aware of, too? Why would Jeff even consider it?

There are aspects of their relationship Louis himself has not even considered until _now_ , being here in Los Angeles with Harry, performing this stunt. It has not even been much to do, and yet it is already poking at certain parts of him. Perhaps it’s the people, Harry’s friends that have never seen them together much, not having grown used to how close they are as mates. Them noticing it, questioning, the looks they are given by them when they aren’t even trying… all of it makes Louis so aware of how they act within their friendship. It’s only slightly frustrating, but most of all confusing. 

Harry resigns to his room after the two of them leave, and Louis and Lottie are left in the kitchen, poking at the leftovers. 

“He mad at you?” she asks. 

Louis shrugs. “I don’t know. We had a fight last night… I’m not sure he is over it. I don’t know if I’m still angry with him, either. I get his point of view, but it just doesn’t really make complete sense to me.”

“Why don’t you ask him to explain better?”

“He hates talking about it. He hates talking about his problems, and things that bother him the most. He pretends it’s fine, and when forced he only explains the shallowest surface of it. It’s impossible, and I don’t want to make him that angry with me. We’re filming the music video in a few days, and I just don’t want him pissed off when we’re doing it.”

Lottie purses her lips, eyes on her own hands. “Niall told me the filming would be a bit intimate.” Louis nods, sighing as he empties his Styrofoam cup, grimacing at the cold coffee. Lottie looks up, raising a dubious brow. “Wanna come running with me?”

Louis doesn’t see why not. 

The following days are spent around the house. Harry is moping, a grey cloud hanging above his head wherever he walks. Louis doesn’t try to remove it, simply lets him wallow in his own gloominess. Instead, he works on his tan, swims in the pool, catches up with friends via FaceTime, and tries not to think about what he is going to do for work once the stunt is over. He misses teaching, but he doesn’t miss the pressures of finding somewhere to do it, and the simple thought of it makes him want to roll in under the duvet in his bed and hide. So, he doesn’t. 

He tries making tacos one night, and it turns out alright. Harry isn’t much for conversation, eats what he eats, says little, but hangs around in the background of whatever Lottie and Louis get up to. However, he says polite no thank you’s whenever he is offered or requested to join. As the days roll by Louis gets more and more irritated by it, but he contains himself admirably well (except for the time when he hands Harry a cup of tea in the penis mug with a withering look). He knows Lottie can feel the tension between them at certain points when Harry is being uncooperative.

The day of the music video shoot comes around before Harry’s dull mood has subsided, and Louis is tense already at breakfast. The fact is he is going be in the actual video is in itself terrifying. He won’t be in focus, but the video will be seen by millions of people across the world. He doesn’t want to fuck up on set and accidentally ruin everything for team, and he and Harry being on ends doesn’t help his nerves. 

The car ride to the studio in Hollywood is quiet, Lottie’s lips pursed, inspecting her nails with Harry and Louis on either side of her as the driver takes them to the location. Harry is doing something on his phone, and Louis tries not to get pissed off about it. What bothers him the most is how unlike this is their normal behaviour. Of course, they haven’t been around one another for this long in years and they are bound to clash at some point, but it’s still bothering him immensely. 

They arrive at nine-fifteen, once again met by Jack, the handler. They are lead to the right studio, a large bright room with a high ceiling. The place is fairly empty, save for the big white screen put up in the middle of the room, a few people around fiddling with the large already set up cameras and checking cords. 

Julia, Damien, and their interns are already in a corner setting up their things; a clothing rack with jeans and boxers on hangers by the wall, and a makeup table with a mirror by its side. There are no shirts or shoes in sight, and Louis distinctly remembers how very shirtless they are going to be. He is grateful that his morning runs with Harry and now Lottie these last couple of months have paid off. 

Zayn is sitting on a couch, and looks up from his phone when the three of them approach with Jack. He greets them cheerily, pointing at a door not too far away. “Liam and Soph are around here somewhere. Still waiting for Niall to show up.”

“Are Leo and the team all here then?” Harry asks, referring to the director of the video. 

Zayn nods. “Yeah, he was okaying the clothes and stuff with Damien and Jack a while ago.”

They settle down on the sofas, Harry introducing Lottie to Zayn, the interns and Julia when they come over to greet them. Niall arrives ten minutes later, already chatting with the director as he walks inside, followed by Jack who must have disappeared unnoticed earlier. By then Sophia and Liam have appeared, and they are urged to start getting ready. 

Everything around the shoot is a lot more relaxed than Louis imagined. The director greets them all amiably, and two female dancers are introduced. One is blonde and the other brunette, both of them short and petite. They look professional in their training attire, but Louis presumes they will change when it’s time to shoot. 

Julia begins with getting their hairs and makeup done together with Grace, Damien and Amelia picking out the right clothes from the backup sets. 

“I wasn’t sure of your size, Louis,” Damien says, “but from what I could remember you’re not too tall, and a few sizes smaller than Harry. Maybe more of a Liam than a Niall… Try these. You’re not shooting till after lunch when the boys have done their individual shots, so even if they fit take them off after. Don’t want to get wrinkles on them.”

The jeans he puts on are Levis. They are black and incredible tight, but fit remarkably well. “Good eye,” he compliments the boys’ stylist, impressed. Damien doesn’t reply, only studies Louis’ legs intensely, stepping around him with calculating eyes. Amelia is standing by his side, observing the outcome. 

“Shirt off,” he orders. “Need to see what it will look like.”

“Oh,” Louis says, and fiddles with his shirt, lifting it over his head. He flushes when Damien’s eyes roam over him, tugging at the loops in the jeans and getting flustered when Damien bats his hands away. He glances over at the makeup table, trying to find Lottie or Harry, but both of them are occupied. Lottie is chatting with Grace, and Harry is standing close to Liam, the other boy’s hands on his shoulders. They are speaking quietly, Liam’s frown obviously concerned. 

“Aren’t the trousers a bit long?” Amelia asks, making Louis divert his gaze. 

“It will be fine,” Damien assures. “Right, take those off Louis, and then when it’s time to film I’ll give you some pants, too, right? Size L is good, yeah?”

“Good, yeah,” he nods, cheeks warming. Good eye indeed, he thinks. He looks around for Harry as he is switching into his own clothes, feeling slightly self-conscious while everyone else around him seem unbothered walking around half-dressed after years of touring with the same entourage of people, practically living in one another’s pockets for months. 

He finds Harry in Julia’s chair, getting his hair and makeup done. Lottie is leaning against the table by his side, Harry resting his arm in her lap. Louis slowly strolls over and comes up behind him, letting his hands gently land on his shoulders. 

“Hi,” he says softly. 

“Hey,” Harry greets him back quietly. “Did you get your clothes sorted?” 

“Yes,” Louis nods, watching Grace cover the blemishes on his forehead, adding powder on top. She puts her brushes away after a minute, and Harry stands. “Oh, are you finished?” Louis asks, and follows him to where he is fetching a bottle of water. He takes a large sip, looking back at Louis with a small wrinkle between his brows. “Are you okay?” Louis asks, reaching out and touching his hip with his fingers. 

Harry sighs, dropping his water bottle to the floor, and keeps his eyes cast down. “Yeah… I’m sorry for being an arse these couple of days.”

“Yeah, you were a bit of a dick.” Louis smiles, and Harry knocks his knuckles lightly into his stomach. “You were like a little thundercloud roaming ‘round the house,” he teases.

Harry snorts, shaking his head with a smile. He scoops Louis up, wrapping his arms around his waist in a sweet embrace. Louis can feel his hands on the small of his back, hands distinctly touching more jeans than t-shirt. “Was not,” Harry mutters. 

“Oi! Harry, you’re up!” someone calls, interrupting. 

Harry remains with his arms around Louis’ waist for a moment longer, but before he lets him go, his hand sinks down his back and squeezes around Louis’ arse. Louis squawks, jolting and squirming in his arms, eyes wide with shock.

“What are you doing?” he squeaks.

Harry chuckles, arms still around him, if a bit lighter. “Jack was filming, probably for Snapchat,” he says, shrugging. He releases him and begins toward the big screen, and Louis follows him with furrowed brows.

“Wait, so was that only for the camera?” he asks, not liking how that makes him feel. He would like to be aware when they are pretending and when they aren’t.

Harry stops, and when he looks at Louis he does so intently. “Everything is real, whether it happens on camera or not.” He swallows. “That is the rule.” Then he walks away, and is consumed by work the moment he steps in front of the cameras. 

Louis remains where he is, and crosses his arms. He watches Harry shoot his individual scenes, the ones where he is singing in front of the camera. His shoulders are tense as he belts the lyrics out, fists clenched, and Louis can tell that it fits the feeling of the music video and the song. The tension will convey something else to what it really is, something more sexual, and the way he moves when he sings, touching his own chest and closing his fists, making his biceps bulge, certainly adds to it.

Without warm up and with the lack of vocal coach on set Harry’s voice is rough and bit coarse, but it doesn’t matter considering they aren’t using the audio for the video. Louis still enjoys listening, the sound of Harry’s voice ever pleasing to his ears. Louis stays where he is behind the cameras, and watches the whole thing. He especially notes the scene where they zoom in on his lower belly, filming along the waistband of his jeans, boxers poking out. Apparently Calvin Klein paid a shitload of money to have their clothing endorsed in the video.

After the boys have all shot their individual singing scenes, they eat lunch, and begin with the couple shoots promptly after. Niall is the first to start, together with the brunette dancer. He sits on the floor, leaning back on his hands, and she moves gracefully around him. She makes it looks easy, entirely flawless as her hands trails around his chest with such elegance only a dancer can possess. At one point he sits with his guitar, and her lips graze his ear as she is whispering a sultry line, Louis wonders how in the world he is going to pull off doing the same thing, acting even half as good. It’s severely intimidating. 

Zayn’s dancer, the blonde girl, is just as gorgeous and talented. Zayn is situated on a chair, and she moves around him with such unforced grace. As he simply stands in front of the camera, her petite hands carding through his hair, bending his head forward and back, they look so aesthetically pleasing Louis would get anxiety about it if it weren’t for Sophia standing by his side, looking every bit as daunted as him. 

After getting his makeup and hair done, and having changed into Calvin Klein and Levis, Louis joins Harry on set. The director shakes his hand again, and proceeds to tell him it’s not as intimidating as it might look like after the professional dancers’ performances. In the end it’s comfortable enough for Louis to not feel immediate need to bolt. 

“We’ll start with the easy part,” Leo, the director, says, and begins explaining how Harry will be standing right in front of the camera, this particular scene a close-up on his face. Louis is supposed to whisper a line from the song into his ear, close enough that his nose brushes his hair, which doesn’t say much, honestly, because Harry’s hair is bloody wild. At any rate, intimacy seems to be what they are looking for.

Louis gets up on his toes to reach better, and he moves in until his face is less than a centimetre from the side of Harry’s face. Someone — Louis doesn’t recall his name — moves his chin a nod to the right, giving the cameras a perfect angle. They tell him to read the line, and he does. 

“Say it slower, and enunciate,” he is told almost immediately, and he clears his throat, gripping onto Harry’s waist to keep his balance on his tiptoes. Harry shifts with the touch, angling into him pliantly. 

Louis says the words again, but apparently that isn’t perfect either. “Again,” the director says.

Harry smirks. “It’s just one line, Lou,” he teases. “Come on, mate.”

Louis squawks. “Says you! You’re just supposed to stand there and look submissive. Anyone could do that!”

“As if,” Harry snorts. “This is my true calling in life.”

“Being a sub?”

Harry chortles, grinning back at him over his shoulder. 

“Let’s go again!” someone calls, and Louis gets back on his toes. 

“Don’t mess it up,” Harry mutters, smirk still in place on his big fucking mouth. Louis can’t help himself. He leans in and lets his lips brush his ear for a long moment, closing his eyes. 

“Hairy nipples,” he murmurs sensually, and Harry can hold it together for exactly a second before he breaks. Louis’ stomach flutters at the sound of his loud laugh, and it feels bloody fantastic to hear it this brightly after these dull couple of days. 

“Guys,” someone says, sighing. “Serious now. Liam has to film before the day is over, too.”

Louis rolls his eyes, still smiling as he apologises briefly and gets back into position, leaning up on his toes to reach up again. This time Harry is giggling before he has even said anything, and Louis can’t manage to keep a straight face. They have to do it over a few more times as Harry keeps squirming and giggling whenever he feels Louis’ nose in his hair and his lips touching the shell of his ear. While Louis is sure the director finds it only a bit annoying, he is nothing but pleased when Harry can’t keep his face expression intact.

“Get it together. Christ, man,” Louis chides, grinning with crinkled eyes. “I’ve finally got this. You’re destroying my potential acting career.”

Harry gives a breathless laugh, but tries to straighten up. He closes his eyes, and on the cue Louis leans in, letting his bottom lip drag across the shell of his ear. He mouths his line _Lips so good I forget my name_ , and he can literally feel the goosebumps rising across Harry’s skin. He holds for a few moments, exhaling softly against the other man. 

“Cut,” someone says, and Harry’s eyes blink open with a flutter, inhaling sharply. 

“That was… erm,” he says, voice thick. “That was a good take, I think.”

Louis nods, giving him a smile, and when Harry reciprocates it his entire body feels lighter. The director steps away for a bit to look at the outcome at one of the computers, nodding in approval as Louis watches him watch it back. 

“This is brilliant,” he says. “Perfect. Well done, boys.”

The second part of the shoot involves the scenes where Louis is supposed to sneak his hands around Harry’s upper body from behind him. His heart pounds a little faster as he observes the director, who is showing him how to move his hands around Harry’s torso in the correct way. This is the part he has been, not dreading exactly, but most nervous about. He and Harry are tactile, yes, but this is intimate, and a lot intimidating. Plus, it’s in front of fifteen other people working on the set. 

Harry stands on the mark taped on the floor, getting into position. He seems to take a large breath when Louis comes to a stance behind him, someone moving him slightly until he is in perfect position, hidden behind Harry’s taller body. He isn’t far away, and if he breathes he is sure Harry can feel it against his naked skin. 

“Start with moving your hands around his waist and up, like I showed you,” the director says, nodding at the girl with the clapperboard. Louis swallows, and on cue gently moves his hands into view, just beneath his ribcage. He lets his palms meet skin, letting them trace across to his middle, dragging them upward to his chest. He tries to keep the movements slow, but not too slow, making it look natural, but as hot as they are looking for. Harry is warm beneath his hands, and Louis is able to feel every breath he takes. His skin is soft and smooth under his fingertips, and Louis can’t help but think that this is skin you’re supposed to be gently with. 

“Harry, close your eyes when you feel his hands move up your chest. I want you to look affected, and not like you are trying to not be.”

Harry clears his throat, apologising hoarsely. Louis hears Lottie laugh, and he finds her giggling with Niall on the right side of the screen. Louis narrows his eyes and flips them off, shaking his head. 

They do several more takes, all for different parts of the music video. Louis’ hands roam over Harry’s torso, dragging over his skin at his tummy and sides firmly, up to his chest and shoulders. He is told to let the very top of his fingers sink into the waistband of Harry’s jeans, and he flushes, but does as told. He tries to think of it as somebody else, not his best pal, focusing on moving his hands like the dancer with Niall did. Harry is stiff in front of him, but he doesn’t think it matters since the shot will be focused solely on his lower belly. 

He can feel him breathe, his tummy and chest expanding with each exhale. His fingertips are light on his skin until they breach the edge of his Calvin Kleins, pressing flatly into his skin as they sink down just a bit. Louis exhales softly as his skin gets thinner, and goosebumps prickle across Harry’s back instantly. He doesn’t think, because thinking about this is stupid to begin with. Very stupid.

“Cut! That’s excellent, boys.”

They take quick a break, mostly because Harry instantly walks off to fetch a bottle of water. Louis follows him, and Niall and Liam reach them at the same moment. 

“You looked like you were gonna come, Harry,” Niall cackles, and Liam promptly hits him in the back of his head, giving him a scolding look. 

Harry flushes, but rolls his eyes. “That’s good acting, Ni. Maybe you need to learn.”

“Mm-hm,” he grins and backs away, wiggling his brow. Louis frowns at him, but they’re called back on set only a moment later. Louis takes the bottle Harry extends to him and swallows down a large sip, before dropping it to the floor and following him back into their place in front of the cameras. 

It’s the last part to shoot, and the director brings back the brunette dancer in front of the camera to show them how the last scene of the two of them will be executed. It’s for the end of the song where everything is at its most intense peak. They will be doing a dance move, where Louis stands behind Harry, one hand on his hip, and the other knitted in the back of his hair. In one movement, he is supposed to press Harry’s upper body down, bending him forward slightly and moving them in a horizontal half-circle, and then let him up again. It’s vaguely sexual, but Louis has seen enough dancing television shows to know it’s a common sequence in performances. 

He is rather dubious as to how they are expecting Louis of all people along with _Harry_ to pull this off, but if they even considered that they might then perhaps it isn’t as hard as it looks.

The dancer, in Louis’ place, shows him slowly exactly how to move. It looks easy, Harry’s back arched, muscles visible from the way he is slightly bent. Louis takes over, the dancer positioning his hands in the correct places, going through the movement once more. He nods, fingers wound in Harry’s soft curls. She steps out of shot, and when someone has noted the scene with the clapperboard they move.

Somehow it is not at all as easy as it looked when she did it. Harry flails instantly as they begin, and Louis follows, and at the end of it they are lying in a pile on the floor, limbs everywhere. Louis is shaking with laughter by the time he realises what has happened, and Harry gasping beneath him.

“We are so not sexy right now? What is happening!” he calls out, cackling loudly, and Harry laughs even harder. “We’re not dancers, how do you expect us to dance?!”

He can hear other people laughing around them, and he keeps grinning, looking down at Harry who has collapsed completely onto his back. Louis giggles, Harry still wheezing beneath him. He pats his stomach twice, before clumsily getting to his feet. He extends his hands to Harry, who takes them and pulls himself up. 

Harry gives another breathless laugh as Louis steps around him to get back into position, placing his hand on his tummy, the other in his hair. 

From there numerous takes go by without luck. The movement isn’t natural enough for either of them to be able to make it look sexy, and they end up laughing more than anything through each take. Even the cameramen seem to enjoy watching them flail pathetically too much to be annoyed. 

The dancer — Louis is ashamed he doesn’t remember her name — tries helping them on several occasions. The brunette little woman takes a firm grip at Harry’s waist, slings her fingers into his hair and tells him to bend and point his chin up. Louis watches them move in unison, and it looks gracious, and he can imagine that with the music it will look electric even. If only he could make the same magic happen.

“Alright,” he says, determined, when she has gone over every detail once more. “I can do this.”

The girl nods, and steps away from Harry. She takes Louis’ hands places them in the right spots, and he is reminded to keep his facial expression smooth. Harry is warned to stop giggling, and Louis hides away the large feeling of relief within him. Harry’s laugh is like an angel’s after so long without it. 

They do it over three times, and they manage to keep their faces straight through two. The director looks at the computer with a not entirely displeased expression, and Louis takes that as a win.

“One more time,” he says. 

“Don’t fuck it up, H,” Louis giggles into Harry’s ear from behind him, and the other boy kicks his shin with his heel. “Twat,” he mutters under his breath, but puts his hands in the right places, tugging a little extra at Harry’s curls. Harry audibly winces, shoulders tensing slightly. 

This time the motion is smoother, and Louis can feel that it’s right instantly. He presses Harry down, and they move to the right in a half circle, Harry’s head pointing up while his hair flies. He comes up to a stance at the end of the movement, standing and leaning back with Louis’ fingers in his hair, breathing with his mouth open and eyes closed.

Louis can’t help himself, and after a moment he gives Harry a push. The boy, completely unprepared and caught by surprise falls forward, surely disappearing out of shot. Louis turns to the camera and grins, giggling as Harry laments from his spot on the floor, the camera crew laughing along with him.

Before he knows it, Harry is attacking him back, pulling at his leg until he is forced to wrestle him back. He manages to escape after a minute, stumbling away from him. Harry is left sitting on the floor, grinning at him with big, goofy smile. It feels better than it probably should. 

The director is happy with the material they have got, and moves on to start with Sophia and Liam. Louis gives her a thumbs-up, and wishes her luck. She looks nervous, but excited, and Liam seems happy to have her with him. 

They walk over to the corner to get back into their own clothes. Niall is nowhere to be seen, but Zayn has only just switched into his own long-sleeved, black shirt. Harry disappears to get the excessive makeup off his face, and Louis starts tugging on the ends of his jeans. When he looks up, having pulled his own trousers on, Zayn is regarding him with a smile that threatens to explode into something inexplicably large. 

“Never seen him as happy as when he is with you,” he explains as Louis pulls his white t-shirt over his head. “All these years and that right there is one of freest moments I’ve seen him. Apart from shows and awards and the shit like that, he’s never happier than when he’s with you.”

Louis opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. His jeans are unbuttoned. 

“He loves you a lot,” Zayn says softly. “People on Jupiter could see it.”

With that he strolls away, heading over to his bag of clothes to get the rest of his things. Louis swallow, brows furrowing as he finishes getting dressed. He doesn’t know what Zayn’s point was, but he hopes it doesn’t mean Harry is completely miserable when they are apart. He isn’t selfish enough to think that Harry doesn’t have other proper friends or doesn’t have fun without him, but if that, when they have just come out of a fight, is the happiest Zayn has seen him in a while, then… then it’s an uncomfortable thought.

He fixes his hair, and turns to face the set, crossing his arms to watch. Sophia, tiny as she is, is barely visible behind Liam’s broad shoulders and impressive biceps, her hands small and dainty. Her long, dark hair is curled and sways enticingly. The pair is truly beautiful together. 

Louis watches them shoot, Sophia’s small hands sneaking around Liam’s torso and disappearing into his short hair. Between each take her arms are around him, hugging herself to his back as the director speaks and they listen. Liam’s hands stroke over hers where they are clutched tightly around his waist, and Louis watches her whisper something to him that makes him shake with silent laughter. 

As they shoot, they look they are best friends, but in love. They laugh and giggle, but the way they touch one another each time alludes to something more. It is in the way Liam touches her so gently, and how she in return strokes his skin so affectionately. He looks at her when she smiles as though she hung the moon. Louis can’t help but think that this is what love should be like. This is what love _is_. Your partner should be your best friend. The emotional stability between a couple is the most important thing, and to Louis even more so. 

People date, have sex, get to know one another, and something strong like that builds with time. But that is the thing. With other people sexual interest comes first. If a platonic relationship is built then for most people romantic and sexual feelings are less likely to occur. With Louis, it’s the opposite. He needs the friendship, the emotional intimacy, and the _security_ first. 

He remembers thinking it before, that he would absolutely date Harry if it weren’t for the fact that they’ve been soulmates since they were toddlers. But that’s wrong. The truth is that he would date Harry _because_ they’ve been soulmates since they were little. Jeff’s words, how the fact that they have been so close their entire lives makes it really not impossible that they could be a thing, even though Louis is demi, play back in his head. Perhaps he was right. 

Louis has never even considered it a possibility before, because his sexuality made it off the table somehow. In reality, it’s not off the table. Love is not off the table. But they never considered it, not for a second. They’re best friends, and love like that doesn’t come easily. Louis was in love once, a few years ago. It lasted a few months, but then his boyfriend moved away and that was lost. It doesn’t just happen overnight. 

“Lou?” It’s Harry’s voice. Louis looks up, finding him dressed with a bag hanging off his shoulder. “Ready to go?” he asks, small smile playing on his lips. “Niall found a pub we can head to. The rest will join us later.”

“Yeah, cool,” Louis agrees, trying to blink away his pondering thoughts. “Sounds nice.”

They fetch Lottie and Niall, and get going. Jack has gotten a car for them, and they cram into the escalade, greeting the driver in cheers. The pub Niall has found them is small and not too crowded on a weekday like this. It’s slightly hidden away on an un-busy street in West Hollywood. The interior is classic polish dark wood, with barstools and booths, and a smoking area farther inside. The alcohol prices are okay for a Los Angeles pub, and though the bartenders give an extra look at Lottie, Amelia, and Grace they don’t say anything. It’s all about company. 

The rest of the team arrive an hour and a half later. Lottie instantly disappears to chat with the girls, and Damien joins the three of them at the bar. Liam and Sophia look happy and bright, Sophia coming to talk to Louis instantly. 

The night passes quickly. They drink and talk, the boys’ excitement about the video evident. Niall keeps repeating it will be their sickest yet, and Liam smiles quietly at Harry when Sophia remarks that by the time it’s out Harry will be a free man. Louis absolutely adores how much they care about him.

The hours trickle by, and Louis goes outside for fresh air with Liam and Julia, standing there chatting and smoking. It’s dark outside already, but with the blue button down he is wearing on top of his t-shirt it’s not even cold. He doesn’t know is he misses the English weather or not. 

When he enters the pub once more, the place is more crowded than earlier. He mustn’t have noticed it before, but people have begun trickling in. He is unable to spot Harry anywhere, and instead he strolls up to the bar where he can spot Niall’s brown hair, and Lottie’s blonde buns. 

“Seen Harry, mate?” he asks Niall as he reaches them, leaning against the counter.

“Nah, not in a while, man.”

Louis hums, beginning to glance around the pub for him, surveying each corner. It takes him a couple of minutes, but in the end he finds him in a lonely booth in the smoking area, sitting by himself. He is sipping on a drink, a cigarette between his fingers, and Louis sighs from his spot by the bar, frowning. He thought that Harry had come off it after the day on set, but now he is hiding away once more. Louis does not like it one bit.

“Be right back,” Louis mutters to the two by his side, and gets off the bar. He instantly heads over to where Harry is sitting, scrolling on his phone. He plumps down on the padded seat, shoulder unceremoniously bumping into his. “Tell me,” he says to him, voice firm but managing to sound bright. “Tell me now, because otherwise I am going to lose it on you.”

Harry sighs, long and hard, and Louis can feel his shoulder move against his arm. He is giving in. “I want my coming out to be as candid as possible,” he says, shrugging. “But it obviously can’t be.”

“So tell me,” Louis hums. “In an ideal world, what would it be like? How would it happen?”

“In an ideal world I wouldn’t have to say anything. I’d live my life, and if people would ask me I’d just say ‘Google me. I’m not hiding.’ But Jeff and everybody want it to be as ‘successful as possible,’ and that means a big showy coming out. I just… Even though he is on my side I’m tired of the drama. I wish everything wasn’t so planned, and calculated.”

Louis takes a moment to process, starting to understand.

“First of all,” he sighs. “Thanks for telling me. Second… I think finally get why you didn’t want him to know the kiss happened. I wish you could have explained it a little better, though, like you did now.” He bumps his shoulder with his own. “So… have you thought about how it’s gonna be after you’re actually out?”

Harry looks at him. “With you and me?”

He shrugs. “I mean normally the point of coming out is so you can be with, and be who you want. Your case is a little different, you’ve got me in a rucksack. Our shoelaces are tied together…”

“I think…” he says, frowning thoughtfully. “I think I’m just going to focus on, you know, being as honest I can with who _I_ am as a person. PR stops for nobody despite coming out. There are always gonna be strategies and schemes. Even if I didn’t need you to come out, the PR team would still design a detailed game plan, and make a blueprint for my every move. There are still going to be rules to follow, I’m not as free as a bird even though I can be honest with my sexuality.”

“Remember the good things, too, H,” Louis reprimands softly. “Remember that you won’t be rumoured to be dating every female friend… You can say men’s names when asked about your celebrity crush, you can go to gay bars without being questioned, and… When you and me are finished you get to date whoever you wish.”

Harry sighs, looking down to meet his eyes. He smiles, but it’s not entirely weightless. “I know that,” he replies just as quietly. “It’s going to be great. Like, I’m going to be free of all this pretending that has been hanging after me since XFactor. Even though I have to come out with a fake boyfriend, it’s fucking worth it. It’s not even a hardship when it’s you, Lou.”

“It’s a little hardship, innit?” Louis arches a brow. 

Harry bites his lip, turning his head to face him properly. “Not in the ways you think, Lou.”

Louis regards him for a long moment, puzzled, but he doesn’t ask. All of this feels too delicate already, and he doesn’t want to risk another few days of doom and gloom. “So, when we inevitably break up, what’s gonna happen then?” he wonders instead. “We’re just gonna fade out, and remain friends?”

Harry looks away, chuckling. “We haven’t even gotten together officially, and you want to talk about breaking up?”

“Well, I’m gonna have to go back to my own life eventually. I can’t be here in California forever. I guess I just want us to talk about it.”

“I know,” Harry says. “I just don’t know how to act when we’re supposed to be an actual couple, let alone after we break up. I don’t know, Lou.”

Louis is just as lost as he is. “We’ll just pretend like we know then. Act like we know how to act.” Does that even make sense?

Harry snorts. “You know those rumours I was gonna be in motion pictures? I’m a terrible actor.” 

Louis cackles. “You’ll just have to take acting classes, love.”

“Is that what we should do?” Harry asks unsurely then. “Practice?” 

Louis’ eyes zone in on the hole in Harry’s t-shirt, right by his rib, his stare hovering there for a short moment. He looks up at Harry. “Practice?”

His cheeks start to slowly warm, a pink colour building at the apples of his cheeks. Even the tip of his nose looks rosy. Louis watches him with a small wrinkle between his brows, pondering. 

“Practice… how?”

Harry shrugs silently. 

“You want to kiss me?”

“Wha —” Harry stutters. “I don’t —”

Louis arches a brow. “As in practice?” 

Harry bites his bottom lip, but eventually looks up from beneath his eyelashes. “Would that be okay?”

Louis turns his head completely to face him, looking up with slumped shoulders and meaningful eyes. “You know I trust you, right? I’ve known you for my entire life. Kissing you does not make my dick shrink into nothing.”

Harry rolls his eyes, looking back down at him now. There are only a few centimetres between their faces. “I know that. I don’t think you don’t have genitals because you’re a form of asexual.”

“I know that,” Louis says back, impersonating Harry’s darker voice, and smiles. He nods to his right. “Come on then.” 

“What?”

“I can’t snog your face off out here, can I?”

Harry coughs, face flushing completely. His nose is definitely rosy. It’s endearing. Louis grabs his hand, and tugs him from their seats and starts walking toward the loos. Harry stumbles behind him, but follows more than willingly. Somewhere in the back of Louis’ head there are thousands of questions screaming at him, but for some reason they are suffocated by something else. He remembers what it’s like kissing Harry, and all he recalls are good things.

“Right then,” Louis says, placing his hands on his hips. Harry stands in front of him fumbling with his fingers, and it’s strangely unlike him to be this shy. 

Harry clears his throat suddenly, and looks around them. “Can we just…?” 

He takes Louis’ hand and backs into the stall behind him, sitting down on top of the toilet. He tugs Louis closer by the hand, and Louis gingerly sits down in his lap, legs on either side of him. A tentative smile starts building on his lips, and Harry’s hands touch his, soon lacing their fingers and placing them on top of Louis’ thighs. 

Louis looks up to say _something_ , whatever he can to make this less awkward, but as soon his eyes are on Harry, Harry kisses him square on the mouth. There’s a surprised sound escaping Louis that he hopes the other man doesn’t hear, but after that any thoughts simply melt away. 

Harry’s mouth is warm, lips moving in earnest, sweet kisses. His nose is pressed to the skin beside Louis’, head somewhat angled. He gives him languid, but seemingly excited kissed, and Louis tries his best to keep up with him, eyelids fluttering when he feels his tongue nudge his. 

Louis pulls away only a bit, takes a shaky breath and opens his mouth to him. Harry’s tongue is warm, and tastes bittersweet like alcohol. Harry moves his head to the other side to change angle, and Louis follows him easily, breathing in through his nose. His lungs are getting slightly laboured, but he doesn’t notice until his entire stomach jumps at the feeling of Harry’s hands moving to his hips, and pressing Louis toward himself. 

Louis isn’t sure if it’s the surprise, but his breath catches, and there’s a rollercoaster feeling in his tummy, a jump that he recognises from their last kiss. He doesn’t know how to react to it, can only let Harry keep kissing him deeply, practically eating him up. 

Now that his hands aren’t tied with Harry’s anymore, they’re free to roam wherever they like. Louis barely considers it when he slides them onto Harry’s shoulders, bringing him in closer by the neck before he lets one sift into his hair. Harry’s curls are soft and the hairs fine, and it feels so strange to touch him like this; he can’t help the tiny shake in fingers. He closes his fist and tugs just a bit, forcing them to stop shaking, and Harry groans from deep down in his throat.

They both still at the sound, pulling back just a centimetre to breathe. Louis can feel Harry’s breath on his mouth, his hands on his waist, his hair in his own fingers, and above all else that soap bubbly feeling expanding inside him. 

“Not bad,” he exhales, voice somewhat strained. Harry chuckles breathlessly against him, letting his forehead rest against Louis’. 

“Not at all.” He pulls Louis in and winds his arms around him completely in a tight embrace. Louis buries his face in his shoulder, lips formed into smile. Harry’s arms remain around him, tight hold never relenting. Louis can feel him breathe beneath him, chest rising and falling in a slow pace. His skin smells like lavender, and only a bit like cigarettes. 

“Should we go out there again?” Harry whispers after a couple of minutes of silence, Louis’ cheek still mushed against his shoulder.

Louis shrugs. “Probably,” he murmurs. He doesn’t know how long they have been in here, but he isn’t sure anybody is missing them. Lottie seemed to be enjoying her time with Julia and the interns last he saw her, and strangely Niall seems to be keeping an eye on her. Louis likes him a lot. “I don’t want to move.” His legs feel like jelly. 

Harry giggles, and tightens his grip on Louis. He begins to stand, bringing him up with him. Louis squawks loudly, clinging onto the other boy with all his might. Harry laughs, huffing as he shuffles out of the stall and right across to the sinks. He clumsily sets Louis down on one, giggling when Louis tells him to watch the bloody soap dispenser. He stands there between Louis’ knees, smiling affectionately, teeth sunk into his lower lip. 

“What is it, H?” Louis smiles, kicking his legs out, swinging back and forth. He watches as Harry slowly reaches out and brushes Louis’ fringe out of his eyes, fingertips light as they linger over his right brow. 

“Can I?” Louis’ eyes widen when Harry bends down and presses one more kiss onto his lips. 

Somewhere in the back of Louis’ head he knows that this is in all likelihood not how two friends would practice for their upcoming fauxmance, but he can’t help the way the shot of exhilaration feels when it zooms through him as Harry leans in. His eyes flutter closed instantly at the touch, hands grabbing onto Harry’s hips for support. This time it doesn’t take long before his tongue is in Harry’s mouth, and maybe the other boy had meant for the kiss to be chaste, but it does not work out that way. 

There is far more movement to this kiss, Harry pressing closer and pushing Louis back into the mirror, while Louis grips his neck in return. He doesn’t know when the last time Harry kissed someone was before him, but Louis hasn’t snogged anybody like this in a long, long time. 

Harry breathes hotly against him between kisses, skin warm. Louis is completely lost in it, and his heart leaps up his throat when the door to the loo is opened with a loud push. Both of them jolt, Harry not getting far, realising Louis’ legs are tied around his thighs. Louis didn’t even know he did that. 

Luckily, it’s none other than Niall standing there, looking taken aback, but certainly not shocked. His O-shaped mouth turns into a shit-eating grin, and he crosses his arms over his broad chest. Louis doesn’t think it is an appropriate moment to think about this, but somebody should tell the boy he looks really handsome in black t-shirts. 

“Got a little steamy on set, didn’t it?” Niall says and grins, arching a brow. 

“It’s not what it looks like,” Harry is the first to say, Louis too stunned to get a word out. “It really isn’t.”

“I have to tell somebody,” Niall says, entirely serious. “I can’t keep this to myself. I can’t.”

Harry sighs. “Niall —”

“I have to tell Liam. He needs to know. This is already killing me.”

“Do not tell Liam!” Harry hisses. “Whatever you do, _not_ Liam.”

Niall groans, but rolls his eyes. “Not Liam then.” Then he is gone, having spurted out to the pub again.

Louis sighs, looking up with a small smile at Harry, chuckling when he meets his eyes. “Should have known somebody would find out.”

“And of course it’s Niall of all people.” Harry shakes his head, curls swaying gently. 

Louis releases the grip his legs have on Harry. “Should we go back out there?”

Harry nods, pressing his lips together. He lets his hand rest on top of Louis’ thighs for a second, murmuring quietly. “Give me a moment? I’ll see you out there.”

Louis nods, and slides down from the sink, landing with wobbly knees on the floor. Harry tightens his grip him, but smiles tightly, nodding toward the door. Louis gives him a small smile, before he exits the loos.

As he heads out to the pub, he instantly spots Zayn by one of the smoking permitted booths. He approaches him, fetching out his own pack of cigarettes. He places one behind his ear and the other between his lips, lighting up quickly. He takes a long drag, exhaling slowly. God knows how many people Niall has already gossiped to. Amelia, the clothing intern, is going to go into cardiac arrest, surely. 

He finishes his first cigarette after a couple of minutes, and looks up to find Zayn regarding him knowingly. Fucking Niall. 

“Where did Harry disappear to?” Zayn grins. “Sort out his problem?”

“Sorry? Sort out his —” Louis stops, eyes wide. “Oh,” he breathes. 

He didn’t even consider that. Was Harry — oh dear, was he _hard_? Louis can’t remember feeling him against himself, and neither does he recall even sparing a thought to it. Maybe he was simply too consumed by other things. He takes a deep breath, running a hand over his face. The things that slip his mind… 

When he finally looks up again, Zayn only smirks. He extends his drink with a knowing quirk to his brow. “Alcohol?”

Louis takes it without a second look, and turns around and leaves. 

He finds Lottie, who is coincidentally with Niall. Louis hopes she hasn’t been informed of what occurred in the loos, but his sister doesn’t say anything when he approaches, only hugs him, breath laced with alcohol. Louis hugs her back, ignores Niall’s smirk, and joins the group around them dancing to a Beyoncé remix. 

He manages to keep it out of his head until Harry comes back, his face flushed in pink. It reddens further when he sets eyes on Louis, blushing deeply. He averts his gaze, but his dimples are engraved in his cheeks for the rest of the night. 

Louis watches him grin at the picture he takes of him, Niall, and Lottie later that night, and he can’t help the tiny frown forming on his face. He is aware of what the tiny feeling inside him is, or what it could become. He drowns that thought away with the next drink, however, and settles for smiling back at Harry’s beaming face. 

The feeling means there is a chance he _really_ wants to kiss those plump lips more than one more time. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Here's another double update. The truth is my chapters get way too long, so I will probably end up splitting the next two updates in two chapters each. There are two (4) chapters left after this, so I expect the correct number of chapters will be max 13, possibly 12, we'll see. :) I'm not entirely happy with the writing in the first part of today's update, but I hope it's not complete shite lol. Enjoy! xx
> 
> If you want to say hi! :)  
> tumblr: [isthatyoularry](http://isthatyoularry.tumblr.com/)  
> twitter: [isthatyoularry](https://twitter.com/isthatyoularry)

When Louis fell in love with Elliott, he could tell something was happening to him. There was something fluttery, bright, and soap bubbly inside him. Each time Elliott would smile there would be rollercoaster swoop in his stomach. Being with him felt right. Everything about Elliott and Louis as combined entities was _right_. The universe agreed upon it. 

Louis doesn’t know if that is what everyone feels like being in love, but that is what Louis remembers love being like. There is something similar blossoming inside him when he looks at Harry. It is not quite the same, but it still results in the same brightness he perpetually felt around his ex-boyfriend. 

Harry’s happiness is a direct transection to Louis’. Every laugh and he feels a little lighter. Giggling like he does now, face close to Liam’s where they are situated on the sofa in the dressing room, Louis can’t help but smile fondly. He bites his lip not to seem too enthralled by the sparkly aura he has been surrounded by these last few weeks, because after all, staring creepily at your best friend probably isn’t socially acceptable. 

Harry is in a sky blue buttondown with white dots, his long chocolate hair in pretty ringlets. Julia has finished his makeup for the day’s filming of a TV appearance for the upcoming weekend, and most of them are simply relaxing on the couches while they wait to start. The boys are taping a talk show episode with John Hoechlin today, one of many interviews they have done and will be doing throughout August. 

The last couple of weeks have been filled with promotion work; TV appearances, radio interviews, paparazzi shootings, etcetera. For Louis there has not been much work to do. Harry has been busy with work, and Louis has mostly been spending his time chilling out with Lottie. They spent a couple days at the beach while Harry was busy, did more shopping, visited Universal, and checked out the classic tourist attractions. Louis tagged along one day when Harry was visiting a sick child through a charity organisation, which was heart-breaking, but watching the way that Harry seemed to light up the little girl’s life for the day was worth the sorrow it brought, though it was severely overwhelming. 

They celebrated Lottie’s nineteenth birthday in quiet. Harry invited over some of the people from the team, and Niall showed up. It was a quiet affair with cake and drinks, along with some swimming in the pool. Lottie posted an Instagram picture of her cake, thanking Louis and Harry for making her birthday the nicest day in Los Angeles so far. 

Other than that, Harry has been papped alone and with his band for nearly two weeks now. The team want Harry and Louis separated for the time being, just to tone it down a bit after the almost kiss picture and the hug filmed through Snapchat during the music video shoot. Harry groping Louis’ bum had not been caught in the clip, but they had been captured with their arms around one another. 

While they are trying to cool it down, they still want them to remain connected, ensuring this through social media. They have been establishing frequent interaction between their separate families, making it clear they are very close over the last weeks. That most of their family members already follow one another almost everywhere on social media helps. Lottie and Gemma have tweeted each other in the past, and doing so now perpetually, sometimes alluding to Louis and Lottie still staying with Harry in Los Angeles, sends the message home quite well. Meanwhile, Louis’ mum likes pretty much any and all of Harry’s tweets, and even posted a throwback picture of her and him from his teenage years. She takes ‘helping Harry’ very seriously.

“Right, so, darling,” a female voice says, her central London accent thick. “I sent over the tickets this morning, and Lottie’s as well. Oh, hiya, Louis.” Esme smacks a kiss onto Louis’ cheek as she walks past him, stopping in front Harry where he is sitting across the table from Louis. “You’ll arrive in the city by noon. You’ve got two free days before GMA, and two after. You and Louis will leave again following the photo op, and don’t forget about the clothes Sam got you.”

“Yes, yes, Esme,” Harry sighs, chuckling. Sometimes Louis thinks he forgets Esme is his hired PA and not an extra mum. “I have all the emails, and you’ll call me anyway.”

“It’s the last time I see you before you go,” she sighs. “I just want to make sure you’re settled. I’m going home once you’re in New York, you know.”

Harry only smiles, dimple prominent in each cheek. “Thanks. You’re a _darling_ ,” he says, impersonating her deep accent. 

Louis chuckles, but arches a brow. “You know, the more time I spend with Esme, the more I realise that you are losing your accent, boy. I am not impressed with you.”

“He is not losing his accent,” Liam protests. “The more time he spends with you the more it comes back, you northerners. I can barely understand you two sometimes. What is _with_ your mumbling and murmuring?”

Harry grins at Louis over the table. “We just get each other,” he says softly, and Louis bites his lip to keep from smiling too hard. 

Liam rolls his eyes. “You two are too much.”

“Lads! Time to get on soon!” It’s Jack who has entered the room, and he is pointing in the direction of the green room by the stage where the guests sit before being interviewed. Louis still does not understand how the man manages to manoeuvre around like a ghost. He can never keep track of him. 

“Okay! Hold on!” Julia calls, rushing over to dab some powder onto Liam’s cheeks, Grace quickly giving Zayn’s hair a last dose of spray. 

The boys start getting up, heading in the direction Jack is pointing them in, and Louis stands when Harry circles the table. The other boy reaches his hand out, and Louis easily links their fingers, following him to the exit of the room. Harry lifts his hand as they walk, giving Louis a moment to make a full twirl under their arms before they reach the doorway. 

Harry grins down at him. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Good luck.”

Harry smiles, and leans down to leave a soft, lingering kiss on his cheek. A curl of his tickles Louis’ neck, and he smells like something sweet but clinical… hairspray.

“Quit snogging!” Niall calls from behind Louis. The boy walks past, rolling his eyes. “Can’t keep your hands off one another, blimey.”

Louis pushes Harry away, gently pressing his hands to his chest. “Bye now…”

“Bye.”

Harry backs off into the hallway, still grinning with his dimples out until he stumbles on a threshold. Louis snorts, rolling his eyes as he turns around. He can still feel the warmth of his cheeks, certain he is a little pink from the small touch of Harry’s plush lips. 

While they have been publicly separated during these last weeks, privately they have only become closer. Their friendship has always been intimate, but there has been something different happening since the music video shoot. Between them there is now something more electric, yet sweeter. 

Louis tries to not ponder it too much, instead simply going with the flow. Harry is happier than he has been ever since Louis arrived in Los Angeles in July, and perhaps Louis is, too. Everything feels easier for the time being. Not thinking about it doesn’t get easier, however, when Niall’s comments are always hovering around them, Zayn is perpetually smirking, and Liam and Amelia are observing them with clear interest. Lottie is constantly there, making quiet remarks on their friendship, and… Louis is not stupid. He can draw conclusions based on previous experiences. 

“Did you catch where Lottie took off to?” he asks Grace, who is packing up makeup brushes. 

“She disappeared with Ames somewhere.”

“Typical,” Louis mutters. If he remembers correctly, they were supposed to be hanging out _together_ on set. It’s only a day before she goes home to Manchester again, and they had thought about doing something out in the city today, but Lottie wanted to spend as much time with Harry, too, as possible before she leaves. It seems ‘Harry’ means Amelia and the crew as well. After weeks of hanging around for promotion work they have both grown increasingly closer to the team working with Harry, and it’s clear she will miss the girls. Louis probably will, too, once it’s time. 

“Think they’re getting coffees. Hey, d’you know if Harry likes lingerie?”

Louis looks up, eyes wide and brows arched. “What?” he asks, questioning if his ears are playing tricks on him.

She giggles. “I’m serious. Ames and I wanted to get him something funny, but he still can enjoy.”

“What are you getting him gifts for?”

She gives him a long look. “For his big day…? Duh.” 

“Ah.” Louis nods slowly. He hadn’t thought about that. 

“So, we talked to Julia, and most of the team are thinking some naughty stuff, like, more fun and useful things if you know what I mean.” She zips a makeup bag closed, and tugs at the loops of her jeans. “So, do you know if he likes lingerie? For himself, I mean.”

“Err.” Louis clears his throat. “Maybe, yeah. I think… so, perhaps. He’d definitely try it out.”

“Ah, sweet. Brilliant.” Grace smiles. “Thanks. I gotta find Julia, but Jack’s around here somewhere…”

“Do you know where?” If he manages to find him he’ll surely get him a spot to watch the interview from.

“Sorry, I have no idea. He is always everywhere and nowhere all at once.”

He nods, reciprocating her wave as she exits the room. He is left alone in the empty dressing room, revelling in the rare moment of silence. These last few weeks have been hectic for Harry, and Louis, not quite used to the chaotic and fevered atmosphere always surrounding him at work events yet, finds himself getting exhausted after only hours around the crew. It’s like brain exercise simply being there in the background of things. Maybe he’ll just take a nap here… 

Just when he is contemplating grabbing a blanket and snuggling into one of the sofas for quick nap, Lottie and Amelia come strolling into the room, sipping on coffees and giggling hysterically. Louis winces at the loud noise of their voices, peeking out around the corner of the sofa. Lottie jumps when she sees him, clutching Amelia’s elbow.

“Jesus, Lou,” she says, exhaling slowly. “You scared me. What are you doing here? They’re on soon. Don’t you wanna hear Harry gush about you?”

Louis snorts, rolling his eyes. She knows as well as he does that Louis is a very blacklisted subject. The boys have participated dozens of interviews by now, and asking about Harry’s sexuality, or his male friend/rumoured smooch is strictly forbidden. However, fans are highly aware that Louis and Lottie are staying with Harry, and whenever Harry mentions hanging out with close pals his fans know he is talking about Louis. 

“Very funny you are,” he says, proceeding to make grabby hands at her ice coffee. She hands him it after wrinkling her nose at him. 

“Shall we go out and watch?” Amelia asks, and Louis makes an agreeing noise, standing from the sofa as he sips, closing his eyes at the fresh taste of coffee. Lottie slaps him in the tummy, taking the cup from his hand mid sip. He splutters, giving her a glare as they exit the dressing room. There is a coffee smelling stain on his t-shirt. Nuisance. 

They enter a hallway that leads toward the stage room, and by the sound of applause when they set foot inside it seems like the interview has already started. The audience is filled to the max, camera crew in front of them focused on what is occurring on the platform. It looks like any other talk show; sofas, a little table with drinks, and a large picture of the city of Los Angeles in the background. The lads are sitting on a purple sofa, shoulders brushing ever so slightly. Niall is closest to John Hoechlin, Harry next, and then Liam, Zayn on the end. 

Louis and the girls come into a stop in the corner of the room where Julia and Grace are already huddled. Louis can see Jack behind the cameras, arms crossed and gaze focused. It seems they are discussing the album — duh — Liam mentioning the upcoming single in a casual, but completely practiced manner. 

“Which will be available on digital, vinyl, and CD in a store close to you very, very soon,” Harry interjects with a smirk and a finger gun gesture, winking into the nearest camera. The audience laughs, and Louis rolls his eyes, shaking his head. 

Liam snorts, and digs his fingers into Harry’s thigh, making him squirm and bat his hand away. They giggle for a second, and John Hoechlin regains their attention by asking them another question. They continue discussing the single, Harry at one point making a joke about the lyrics in _Never Enough_ , and Louis can’t help but cackle loudly.

He slaps a hand over his mouth, but Harry is already looking in his direction, grinning broadly. It takes the rest of the boys another moment to understand the joke, and then they are giggling, too.

“That was a shit one!” Liam complains.

“That took me a mo’,” Niall says. “Hate your jokes.”

“It was funny!” Harry insists, an affronted look on his face. John looks confused, granted only a certain amount of people in the room having heard the song. 

“It was not! Nobody even got it,” Niall mutters.

“Lou understood it! I heard him laugh!”

In his periphery, Louis can see Jack throw his hands up in exasperation. He turns and shakes his head at Louis, rolling his eyes. Louis shrugs at him. It wasn’t exactly his fault, was it?

Up on stage, Zayn rolls his eyes, but there is a small smile playing on his lips, and Niall is smirking into the hand that he is resting his chin in, elbow on the side of the couch. 

“You two are too much,” Liam says, repeating the words he always uses around them. 

Harry only grins, looking down at his knees, dimples poking out in his cheeks. John Hoechlin knows he is not allowed to ask about Harry’s snog buddy, but obviously when Louis is brought up by the boys themselves he isn’t missing the opportunity.

“I’m afraid you’ve lost the rest of us. Who is Lou?”

Harry simply keeps smiling down at his thighs, teeth sunk into his bottom lip. Jack is gesturing to cut it out, hand slicing the air by his throat. Liam is the one to take control of the situation again, clearing his throat and grinning at the host. 

“Harry’s friend. He’s in the audience watching. He is actually going to be in our video for Never Enough. My girlfriend, Sophia, too. It’s gonna be a really cool video.”

Louis has no idea if anybody was supposed to know that he and Sophia are in the video, but by the look on Jack’s face he is fairly sure they weren’t. They’ve only got about three weeks until the album release, four until the music video, and Louis is sure the teams had a very consistent, controlled plan on how to promote their product. At any rate, John Hoechlin is sufficiently distracted from Louis himself, and they announce a break only a couple of minutes later. Jack instantly heads to talk to someone responsible, surely about to make certain nothing of that segment makes it into the final product that will be viewed on TV for millions to see. 

Grace and Julia jump onto stage instantly, double-checking makeup and hair. Harry leans back over the sofa while Niall chats with John, Liam and Zayn talking while Julia tugs at their hairs. Harry starts waving at where Louis and Lottie are standing, and Lottie takes a step forward, gripping Louis’ arm. 

“What are you doing?” he hisses. “Don’t walk out there.” He shakes his head at Harry, who frowns at him. 

“Why not?”

“The audience is full of fans.”

She rolls her eyes at him where she is standing in front of him, arching her brows. She nods at the audience. “Hate to break it to you, but they are already very aware that you’re here. Jack isn’t here, and Harry wants you out there. Come on.”

Louis swallows and turns slightly, facing the people watching the show. There are already a couple of eyes on him, and he quickly turns away again, glaring at Lottie. “I’ll stay here, thank you.”

“You’re such a puss.” With that she strolls onto the platform, slapping the hand Harry is extending toward her. He can see Harry’s gaze over her shoulder, giving Louis a questioning look. He doesn’t look too happy. 

“Dammit,” Louis mutters, and braces himself before ducking his head down and quickly striding over to the sofa. Harry lights up when he reaches him, instantly extending his hand toward him. Lottie is giving him smirk, which he firmly ignores, and instead drops his own hand into Harry’s. 

“Hey,” Harry smiles, voice soft. “Is it scary up here, or?”

Louis rolls his eyes, cheeks warming. He lets go of Harry’s hand, smacking his arm lightly. “No,” he mutters. “I don’t think Jack will be too happy if he sees me up here. All these fans are gonna report back to the rest of your fandom that I’m here.”

“So? You’re my boyfriend.”

“Alleged boyfriend.”

Harry sighs. “Boyfriend nonetheless.”

“Maybe you should keep your voice down.”

“Maybe you should just shut up.”

Louis’ mouth falls ajar, and he swats Harry’s shoulder. “Rude!”

Harry giggles, and keeps smiling warmly at him. He presses his lips down in an obvious attempt to hide it, but he is far from successful. He nods to the corner where Louis was stood before, arching his brows. Louis blinks at him. Harry nods again. 

“What?” he asks, confused. 

Harry laughs. “We’re gonna film again. They literally just said it. Shoo.”

“Oh.” Louis blushes, and realises for the first time that Grace and Julia are on their way off the platform, Lottie behind them. He starts backing away, Harry still grinning at him when he turns around, a small glint of something bright in his eye.

Louis’ tummy feels floppy as he meets the girls safe behind the cameras. That stupid smile of Harry’s is annoyingly endearing. As they start filming again, Louis comes up behind Lottie, hugging her back against himself, arms crossed over her chest. 

“Gonna miss you,” he mutters, chin against the top of her head. 

“Please. You’ll have Harry all to yourself when I’m gone.”

Louis sighs. “I don’t know what you’re implying.”

“Of course you do.”

He knees her in the hamstring, and she stomps his toes in return, but eventually they settle on just standing there with their arms around one another, watching Harry and the band finish their interview. Nothing more of Louis is mentioned, and Jack is evidently pleased when they exit the platform, getting ready to perform their current single. 

Louis remains where he is with Lottie and Amelia while Julia once again goes over the boys’ makeup, watching as Harry fiddles with his microphone, listening as the band’s vocal coach speaks to him. Louis has heard him sing so many times, not the least before he auditioned for The XFactor all those years ago, but when he performs on stage he is in one of his truest forms. He is comfortable up there, has fun under the stage light. If he wasn’t made for the life of fame, he was made for the stage. He has a certain presence up there, something you want to stare at. 

But in this moment, when he is fiddling with his in ears and the mic, brows furrowed as he concentrates on what Hannah is saying, there is something that much more attractive about him. His bottom lip is poking out just a bit, and he is standing with his back slightly arched, kitten tummy pulling his shirt taught over his torso. Louis would choose this Harry over the other one in a heartbeat.

They perform _What A Feeling_ , and though Louis has heard the song plenty of times, now live multiple as well, he still finds it hard not to marvel at the beautiful lyrics. Their harmonies are on point, giving the song a certain depth. He knows Liam wrote this one, and he finds himself wishing he could have been there in the studio when it was written. He wonders what inspired it. 

They do two performances of the song before they are finished for the day, picking the second because Zayn wasn’t entirely happy with his verse in the first try. The crew goes backstage to pack up, meanwhile Harry scrubs his face clean of the thick layer of makeup, and Lottie gives her big goodbyes to the crew and the boys, getting warm hugs and pouty faces. John Hoechlin comes back to chat for a while, and Louis gets to shake his hand a talk for a moment. They finally leave the studio after Harry has greeted fans outside, Louis impatiently waiting by the car with Lottie. Harry comes back with a big smile, though, and as they pile into the black vehicle Louis can’t be bothered to chide him for making them wait an eternity. 

Arriving home, Louis makes a beeline for the coffee maker. Harry cuts a kiwi in half, and Lottie disappears upstairs with her phone, brows furrowed as she presses the device to her ear, having received a call for her friend only a minute ago. 

The two of them collapse on the couches, not even bothering to turn the TV on. Harry slouches, shirt riding up on his tummy and exposing a sliver of soft skin, Calvin Kleins peeking out. Louis’ eyes remain on the spot for a moment, blinking slowly. 

“Uhm… so,” he says, clearing his throat. He takes a sip of his coffee, swallowing down the hot liquid in a rush. He coughs. 

“Hm?”

“Do you, err,” another cough, “do you like lingerie…?”

Harry chokes on his kiwi. He coughs, pounding his chest as he puts it down. He rubs his sticky fingers against his jeans, and clears his throat, looking up with wide eyes. “Why do you ask?” he answers, voice hoarse. 

“Just curious,” Louis says quickly, eyes intent on his coffee cup. He shrugs a little too vigorously. 

Harry’s eyes widen, brows knitted in shock. “I thought you didn’t even know how to use the washing machine?! Do you even know where the laundry room is?”

“I don’t know — wait,” Louis says, blinking at him. “ _What?!_ ”

Harry’s face has turned bright red. “Nothing!”

Louis squawks, standing up. “You own lingerie?! And use it?”

Harry squeaks just the same in return. “Well — I — There’s nothing wrong with that! I thought you saw ‘em and asked! I know when you lie!”

“I haven’t done any laundry!” 

“But — what — Louis!”

“What did _I_ do?!”

“You’re the one who… you know! Why were you asking about lingerie?” Harry exclaims, face pink and eyes still bulging. 

“No reason!” Louis says, still panicking. He sits down, taking his coffee and staring straight into the cup. “Just… asking. 

“You’re lying, Lou.”

Oh, God.

“Let’s ignore this now, okay?” he squeaks. He can feel Harry’s eyes on him, burning into his skin. His cheeks are surely just as crimson as Harry’s are. 

“Were you…” Harry says hesitantly, almost whispering, “trying to talk about sex?”

Oh, my. 

“No?” Louis hisses, covering his eyes with his hand. They are utterly horrendous at talking about sex, but he isn’t _that_ awkward. 

“‘Cause, like, it’s okay if you want to,” Harry stutters out, staring at his own knees where he sits. “Just because I am… it doesn’t mean you — I mean, not that you… Uhm.” He stops talking, staring out the grand panorama windows with an awkward look on his face. 

“I didn’t try to talk about sex.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “Why would I want to talk about sex?”

Harry shrugs in his periphery. “I don’t know,” he whispers. “Because we rarely talk about it? Sometimes you wanna talk about sex, that’s just how it is.”

“I don’t want to talk about sex,” Louis moans into his hand, biting the bottom of his palm for a short second. Something hits him. “I… I mean if _you_ want to talk about sex, we can.”

Harry looks at him dubiously. “Did you think I had someone when you saw the… underwear?”

“I didn’t find any of your lingerie!” Louis protests. “And if I had I probably would have figured they were Lottie’s or something.”

Harry looks down at his kiwi, resting on the table next to the spoon. “Yeah…” he says slowly, pursing his lips. “That would have been a good excuse.”

Louis inhales deeply, meeting his eyes for the first time in several long minutes. “You don’t need _excuses_ with me, H. Never.”

Harry’s eyes remain on Louis, looking at him strangely for a moment, eyes big and the wrinkles in his forehead telling of how uncomfortable he feels. Louis doesn’t want him to feel that way around him, ever. “Do _you_ like lingerie?” he asks, clearly trying to look indifferent. 

Louis suddenly feels ashamed of his reaction to Harry’s surprise reveal, and he wishes that he at least hadn’t stood up from the sofa. After all, he doesn’t give a crap if Harry wears lingerie or not. He answers as honest as possible. 

“I…” he stutters, staring back down at his coffee. “I don’t know? I haven’t tried it, and Elliott didn’t wear it. Though, I guess I wouldn’t mind it.”

Harry’s voice is still as tentative. “Then… what do you know you like?”

So, they’re talking about this. Sex. Deep breath. 

“I like… not being caught off guard. I like knowing that it’s going to happen beforehand, being prepared for it and having time to prep. I like being aware of what is going to happen. Surprises aren’t really… fun.”

“Makes sense. Not that it has to make sense, of course.”

Louis’ heart has probably not beaten in this strange, fluttery, but hard way in years. “And you are still, like…?”

Harry makes a quick agreeing noise, looking away and carding his fingers through his hair. Louis knows he said it around the time Louis first arrived in L.A. but for some reason he had to ask. He is unsure of why he felt the need to — it isn’t his business anyway. And, Harry is supposed to be in a fauxmance with him, so of course it hasn’t happened while he has been here. He doesn’t know why he needed it confirmed again. Perhaps this is something they need to learn to be better at. 

“Do you mind talking about this? I know it’s weird, especially since we’re in this weird relationship right now,” Harry says. 

He shakes his head. “I don’t mind. If you wanna talk about it, or know stuff then we’ll talk. Maybe it’s even good for us to have a conversation about this? We never do, and perhaps it’s important because of the stunt. Like, communication.”

“It is,” Harry agrees quietly. “My therapist said so, too.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me earlier then? She is the one you talk to to get through all these stunts and shit, right? If she said we should talk, then we should.”

Harry arches a brow. “I hardly think she meant talking about sex, specifically.”

Louis snorts. “No, but now we are, and it’s a subject that is always fucking awkward between us. Might as well.”

The reason for that Louis has no idea, because the fact that neither of them have much experience shouldn’t prevent them from being able to have a conversation about it.

“This is so weird, Louis…”

“Since when have you given a fuck about weird?”

“Okay…” Harry sighs, shifting gingerly in his seat. In the end he lies down on his part of the U shaped couch, wrapping his arms around a pillow, facing the ceiling. He closes his eyes as though he is in a therapy session. “Do you… I mean, what position, or not position, but — what I mean is…”

Louis should not be this fucking endeared by his stuttering. He hopes that isn’t some sort of kink, because Harry just gets more lovable each time he does it.

Louis’ face is warm as he lies down on his bit of the sofa, glancing over at the younger man again. “If I like giving, or taking it?”

Harry nods with blushing cheeks. 

“I, um, both? I guess. Whichever is more comfortable for us and the situation. I’ve only ever with Elliott, and… it was nice both ways.”

To be honest, he hasn’t thought this much about Elliott in over a year now. He doesn’t know if it means something or not, that Harry is getting increasingly more comparable to Elliott. And not because they’re similar personality wise — they are really quite not — but because of how similar they are with Louis. How similarly Louis is beginning to feel for Harry.

Goodness. He can’t be certain of that. It may just be the stunt and that kiss pulling tricks on his head. Perhaps. Maybe he should see a shrink, too.

“What do you like most then?”

“I… It’s different feelings. It’s more about the connection to Elliott, or to the partner that I’m with for me. The intimacy you feel to the person you’re with is really hot.”

There is a long moment of silence before Harry speaks again. “Do you still have feelings for him…?” he asks tentatively, and there is a tiny wrinkle denting his forehead. 

Louis shakes his head, giving Harry a small smile, even though he can’t see it. “No, not at all. It’s been long since.”

“When did you stop loving him?”

“Maybe like… a little less than a year after. It was hard to, you know, let him go, because he kind of ran deep on me. Even harder because we didn’t break up because he stopped loving me, but because he moved away for college in the States.”

“You always mention him when we talk about love and sex.”

“Because he is the only one I can talk about. He is the only person I’ve been with physically, or been in love with. All my experiences are with him,” he shrugs. 

“No, I — I get it. It’s not like I have anyone to — you know.”

Louis purses his lips. “You know, it’s not long until you don’t have to wait anymore.”

Harry shakes his head, frown deepening. “I don’t care about that. That’s not why I’m coming out. I’m not waiting around for that. I want it to matter. When it happens it happens, and that will be it.”

“Sounds very… cool of you.”

“I mean I want to — obviously, but… you know.”

“Yeah,” Louis hums. “The big day’s just three weeks away, you know.”

“Trust me,” Harry chuckles. “I know.”

“Are you nervous?”

“Yeah,” he breathes, inhaling shakily. “I am.”

“Gonna be good, though, right?” Louis smiles. “You waited so long.”

“I did. And it will,” he sighs. “I’m glad you’re with me, Lou… I haven’t felt this good in years, honestly. I’d be a wreck if you weren’t doing this with me.”

Louis swallows, and sits up, looking at Harry’s body, pillow tucked in his arms. He looks small for a moment, vulnerable. Without thinking, Louis gets up and steps over to Harry’s part of the sofa, and shoves the other boy into the back of it, lying down by his side. 

“Hi,” he says quietly, meeting Harry’s green eyes. 

Harry blinks languidly, gaze regarding Louis’ face. There isn’t too much space between them, where they lie on their sides, facing one another. “Hi,” he breathes, warm breath hitting Louis’ skin, brushing over his nose and lips. 

“I’m having the best time being here with you. You know that, right? I’m not _just_ here to help you. I want to be here because I haven’t felt this happy in a long time either.”

“That’s… nice to know.”

“That I’m not just here for you?” Louis chuckles. 

“No…” he replies quietly. “That we are happiest with each other.” 

Louis watches his blink slowly, and this time it takes him longer to open his eyes again. Louis exhales, eyes falling until they land on Harry’s plump lips, his mouth slightly ajar. His face looks so soft, and there are a few tiny hairs over his top lip. Louis would tell him to shave, because he will never be able to grow proper scruff even, but there is something in him that doesn’t want him to. It just makes him a little more Harry. 

The tip of Harry’s tongue pokes out to lick his bottom lip, eyes still closed, and something just… pops in Louis. He knows what kissing Harry is like and… he wants to. He wants to do it again. 

Harry opens his eyes, and Louis can literally see his eyes drop to his mouth, then flicking up to meet Louis’ again. Harry swallows, uncertainty written on his face. Louis doesn’t know how to ask for it, doesn’t know if he is allowed to, doesn’t know if it’s okay if they haven’t affirmed it’s for practice, or if that one occurrence in the loos at the pub was just a one time thing. 

Friends kiss, but not like this. 

There are hard stomps against the floorboards at the entrance of the room, and Harry sits up as though jolted by taser, hair ruffled and knee knocking into Louis’. He runs a hand through his curls, and Louis sits up just in time to see a sour Lottie stalking into the room, eyes dark. 

“What’s going on?” Harry asks. 

“Just… some lad I had a thing with s’been talking shit about me while I’ve been here. Another girl, too.”

Louis’ mouth drops open. “Why?”

“I don’t know? Beth said something about Instagram followers, or something. I don’t want to think she’s mad at me because I’ve been hanging out here, but it certainly seems like it.”

Louis snorts. “She’s jealous?”

“Doesn’t explain him, though.” She slumps down next to them on the sofa, lips pouted. Harry slings his arm over her shoulders, and tucks her into his side. 

“They both sound like twats.”

“You’ll be home in a couple of days,” Harry says soothingly, rubbing her shoulder. “Talk to them, and if it’s all true, you and Beth can fuck ‘em up then.”

Louis chortles, and there is a small smile tugging at the corner of Lottie’s lip. “Well,” he says. “Maybe it’s not what Beth says. Maybe it’s just hearsay.”

“Beth wouldn’t lie.”

“I’m sorry, honey,” Harry sighs. “Let’s do something else, okay? What do you want to do for your last night in L.A.?”

“Maybe we can go out and eat? And then get some fro-yo?”

He nods. “Yeah, I’ll make some calls. Maybe we can hit the beach after.”

They start planning in low voices, and Louis is left watching the two of them cuddled as he sits facing them, his knees brushing Harry’s thigh. He drops his jaw into his palm, planting his elbow into Harry’s thigh. Harry doesn’t say react much, only keeps talking to Lottie, two of his fingers sneaking out to stroke against Louis’ arm. 

He lets his eyes trail upward, settling on Harry’s face. His brows are slightly pulled down as he thinks, mouth moving in languid motions, lips brushing together and tongue poking out to lick the corner of his mouth once. 

Louis completely startles when Harry begins to stand, his elbow sliding off his thigh. He jolts as though he had nodded off to sleep, looking up to find both of Harry and Lottie grinning at him. 

“Shut up,” he mutters, and stands from the sofa, following them into the kitchen. 

They spend the rest of the night out. After getting ready they head to dinner. Harry has arranged a private table for them at a fancy, but comfortable restaurant. The food seems lovely, and they spend too long trying to figure out what to order. In the end they get several starters and a main course each, and Louis ends up too full to finish. Harry easily finishes off Louis’ pasta (without asking, of course), and then shoots the plate away across the table, laces his arm over Louis’ shoulder, and smiles down at him broadly with his big dimples out. Completely smug, and all too cute.

“You smell like garlic,” Louis says nonchalantly, and takes his wine glass to down at least a third. He feels Harry stiffen slightly around him, arm stilling around his shoulders. Then,

“I haven’t had any garlic.”

Louis snorts into his wine glass, looking up at the other boy with a small smirk. “You looked way too pleased with yourself.”

For that Harry tugs at the back of his hair, knitting his fingers into it and pulling. Louis is afraid choking on his wine prevents him from retaliating. 

They leave quite late, after Harry has taken photos with a few waiters and waitresses who seemed to be fans, and they have thanked the chefs in the kitchen. 

They spend the rest of the night at the beach. After grabbing frozen yoghurt — “Big up on the coconut shavings!” — they take a long stroll on the beach. The sun is lowering, painting the sky a pretty orange. It’s mostly void of people, groups here and there, but none seem to pay attention to Harry. Louis takes off his shoes at one point, and lets Harry carry them as he wades his ankles through the lukewarm water. 

“Do you remember when you got that tattoo?” Harry asks, Lottie strolling ahead of them, water up to her calves. Louis glances down to his ankle, watching blue-ish water wash over the little triangle. 

“‘Course I do,” he mutters. “It hurt like a bitch.”

Harry chuckles. “It was in Florida, during our road trip. When we arrived in Miami you walked straight into a shop and had it made.”

Louis nods, remembering he still had a wristband from a carnival they’d been to in the previous city tied around his wrist, his skin smelling of summer sweat and mouth tasting like the strawberry popsicles they’d suckled on as they drove. 

“I’ve always wondered why you had it done,” Harry says idly, voice in a hum as he watches out over the ocean and the setting sun. 

“Because…” he says, looking up with a small frown. “Because I felt free.” He lets his eyes fall to the ocean licking his toes, making a small inhale. “I felt free that day. I had accepted myself as who I am long ago, but right then I felt like… I felt free in myself? It wasn’t acceptance anymore, it was freedom, of sorts.”

“Why then?” Harry whispers. Louis and Lottie’s shoes are tucked under his right arm, but his left hand reaches out over the edge of the ocean lapping at the sand. Louis takes his hand, letting Harry lace their fingers. He squeezes. 

“After those weeks of just being with you in Florida… it was like, I could just _be_. We hit new places every day, and we could pretend we had different names, and then we even made up a complete life story as we hit Orlando that we told those strangers… We were whomever we wanted, yeah? As much as possible with you being famous and all, but… even when we weren’t pretending it was all so surreal in,” he bites his lip for a short moment, looking away across the ocean, “in the realest of ways.”

Harry’s voice is low, and he sounds far away in his own mind. Louis gently brushes the top of his hand with his. “That summer holds great significance to me.”

“Me, too,” Louis hums, tightening his fingers around Harry’s. Those memories lie very close to his heart. 

They drive home as the sunlight turns into the darkness, sand between their toes and tired smiles on their faces. They tuck into bed as soon as they’ve arrived home, time already past midnight. Louis doesn’t hesitate before slipping into Harry’s bed after he has said goodnight to Lottie, lifting the duvet and snuggling up behind him. 

Harry hums, seemingly in the state between sleep and consciousness. Louis lets his arm tuck around his waist, and silently chastises himself for the way he feels as he inhales the sweet smell of Harry’s tousled, soft curls. He falls asleep, wondering if it’s really real.

♡

Strolling into the airport the following day around noon is like knowing you’re walking right into a crossfire. There are people everywhere, some of those super fans are lurking around somewhere, and though no actual photographers have been called in by the team, there are always paparazzi lingering around at LAX.

The car drops them at the entrance, Harry and Louis helping Lottie with her bags. Alberto is with them, strolling by their side with attentive eyes as they enter the airport, heading directly to check-in.  
Harry slings his arm around Lottie’s shoulders as they walk, tucking her into his side. “And then after that, tell him I am not above indirecting on Twitter. I will roast him if I have to.”

“When have you ever roasted anyone?” Louis rolls his eyes.

Harry gives him a look. “I have _tried_. Social media manager didn’t allow it.”

“Because it was your ex-boss. You probably would have been sued if you had. She’d be fine with anyone else.”

“I haven’t had a reason to trash anyone else,” he responds haughtily, looking over his shoulder at Louis. He turns back to Lottie. “Now, if he says —”

“Harold,” she sighs, just as they reach the long check-in queue, coming to a stop. “I don’t need your help. I’m fine. He is just a stupid boy.” 

“Okay,” he gives in, sighing. “But text me if he is being a twat again.”

“Fine.” She drops her bag onto the floor, and wraps both of her arms around Harry’s waist. “I’ll miss you.” 

Harry squeezes her close, and they remain with their arms around another for a long minute.  
Louis watches, dreading the hug he is going to give her himself. Saying goodbye sucks more than anything, especially when it’s family. 

He casts his eyes down, staring at his shoes for a long moment, before letting his gaze wander around the airport. The area is quite busy, the queue long, people standing in groups or in pairs, giving goodbyes. His eyes trail from one crowd to another, eventually catching eye of a group of girls, looking intently in their direction, large suitcases abandoned behind them. 

He knows they are meant to be spotted, but being watched he feels awkward, not quite knowing what to do with himself. He contemplates engaging in a conversation with Alberto, but by then Lottie is letting Harry go, and they step a few paces forward in the queue. Lottie gives Louis a sad smile, and he wraps her up in a big hug. She is warm, and her hair smells like the fruity shampoo Harry buys. 

“Gonna miss you,” he hums. 

“Me, too. Good luck with everything.” She tightens her arms around his torso, leaning up to whisper in his ear. “Don’t fuck this up.” He frowns for a second, but she looks up at him seriously. “You know what I mean.”

He releases her, and she gives them both a sad smile. “Love you, sis. Have a safe flight, love.”

“I will,” she nods. “Now go before those girls’ eyes over there pop out of their sockets.” 

Harry chuckles, and reaches down to give her forehead a peck, and Louis quickly hugs her one more time. Even Alberto gives her a short embrace, and after a couple of waves Harry and Louis step out of the queue, ducking under the restriction belts. 

They are only supposed to hang around for a bit, which they already have. PR wanted pictures, but they didn’t want it to become a big thing. Granted, everything the boys in the band do turns into a big deal in the papers nowadays, but Louis is guessing they meant that they didn’t want too many pictures out. 

“Can we just wait until she has checked in? I just want to make sure there aren’t any problems,” he asks anyway.

“‘Course,” Harry agrees, and wraps his arm around Louis’ shoulders. Louis knows the girls are watching them — he can still see them huddled together in his periphery — but he figures people are going to have to grow used to the two of them being close at some point, so he laces his arm around Harry’s lower back, fingers on his hip by the edge if his jeans. 

They stand in silence for a moment, Alberto keeping an eye out for anyone who might approach. He gives them a nod toward one of the nearer exits, and after a short look Harry sighs. Louis assumes the super fans have magically found them. 

“Remember last night when you stole my duvet?” Harry says casually.

Louis’ mouth drops open, blush building on the apples of his cheeks. “I didn’t steal it. You’re just… weak in your sleep.”

“Well, I figured you might as well bring your extra blanket with you tonight.”

“Okay,” Louis mutters, looking away, neck warm. They never really address the fact that Louis sleeps in Harry’s bed more often than he does in his own, and neither do they plan it. It just ends up that way. 

He lets himself look up at Harry from the corner of his eye, and finds the other boy grinning down at him, mouth closed and dimples out, eyes tapered into small slits. He doesn’t look smug, but there is something rather pleased about his expression as he smiles at him. 

Louis shifts self-consciously on his feet, and he feels Harry tugging him just a bit closer. Louis has to bite his cheek not to completely waver under his gaze. 

Harry lets two fingers sneak in under the neckline of Louis’ t-shirt, stroking sweetly against his collarbone. 

Shit. 

“You alright, love?”

“I’m okay.” _Mother_ —

Harry nods toward Lottie. “Looks like she got by without trouble. Shall we go?”

“M’kay,” Louis sighs, watching as she shoulders her carry on in the distance, and heads toward security check. Harry drops his arm from his shoulder, letting his fingers follow Louis’ arm down to his hand. For a short moment he tangles their fingers, squeezing Louis’ palm. 

“We’ll see her soon. Just a month, or so…” he says sympathetically. 

“Easy for you to say. You’re used to this, being far away.”

“Doesn’t mean I miss you lot any less.” 

Louis looks up and meets his eyes, pressing his lips for a second. “I know.”

Harry frowns, and inhales deeply. He blinks quickly, looking away as he raises his arms and wraps them around Louis’ neck. “I’m so glad you’re here. I don’t know what I’d without you. I don’t want you to leave, too.”

“Baby, you’ll be okay,” Louis soothes, patting the small of his back softly. He feels him exhale against his skin, nose pressing into the curve of his shoulder. “In a couple months everything will be different.”

“Hm…” he hums. “You’re warm.” He presses a tiny kiss to Louis’ skin. 

Louis’ chest tightens, but in a way that isn’t uncomfortable. It’s… it reminds him of how he felt when they kissed in the bathroom of that pub. It’s as though every intimate touch from Harry has his body on high alert, adrenaline spiking his nerves. It’s a strange, but _nice_ feeling. When he feels like this all he wants is to keep on doing so. 

His hands sink just a bit on Harry’s back, his fingertips touching the edge of the back pockets Harry’s jeans. The other boy shifts on his feet, but doesn’t move away. His one thigh is pressing flatly into Louis’, and when he exhales Louis can feel his tummy expand against himself. 

“Guys…” Alberto interrupts. “I think we should get going. They’ve had enough of a look, don’t you think?”

Oh. Right. Fans. People. Looking. Yes. 

Louis steps out of Harry’s embrace, and tugs on his arm, wearing a slightly strained smile. Harry follows him easily, walking closely, and Alberto keeps by their side. Now that they are facing the nearest exit, it’s easier to see just how many people have caught sight of them. There are several groups of people staring at them, some with phones in their hands. Nobody tries to ask for a picture, however, the reason for that unbeknownst to Louis. Perhaps it is because Harry is with him, and they are unsure of how to act, or Alberto is managing to give them a threatening enough glare. 

“Hi, Harry!” someone calls as they pass instead, and Harry grins, waving amiably. 

“Hi, Lewis!” another fan says, standing quite close as they near the exit, and Harry instantly giggles.

“It’s Louis,” he corrects softly with a smile in her direction, steps slowing a bit. “But you can call him Lou. He doesn’t mind. Or do you?” He directs his pretty dimples his way.

“I don’t, love,” Louis answers him.

“He doesn’t.” Harry gives the girl a last brilliant smile, and Louis shakes his head, grinning as he lays a flat palm against the small of his back, leading him in the right direction when he is too busy grinning at something another fan says. 

“You are ridiculous,” Louis says fondly when they reach the car waiting for them, having been stationed outside since they arrived. 

“I was just being friendly!”

“I know,” Louis grins. “You’re _ridiculously_ cute. And pretty.”

“Oh,” Harry says, smile shaping into something slightly more bashful now. “Thanks,” he mumbles, head dropping as he opens the car door and climbs inside. 

Louis follows him in as Alberto jumps into the front with the driver, and they get a move on as soon as the street is clear. Louis can see fans lingering outside the exit, a few having followed them out. He wonders if they heard what he said to Harry, and what they make of it. He didn’t say it to make them believe anything — it was real. He wonders what that means. Is their friendship simply that close, or is there something else hidden under the surface? He can’t help but question it lately.

Finally home, Harry suggests they start packing for the New York City trip. Harry and the boys are performing on Good Morning America at the end of the week, and the two of them are staying in the city for an additional few days. Louis has never been to New York before, and Harry has promised to take him around the city to see all the important bits. 

“Will I need this?” Louis lifts a blue jacket, sitting Indian style on the floor, surrounded by half the wardrobe he brought over from Manchester.

Harry shakes his head. “It’s still warm. You don’t need it.”

“It’s September soon, and New York isn’t as warm as L.A.,” he defends, and stuffs a black, long-sleeved shirt into his bag. Harry looks slightly pained as he observes Louis’ messy suitcase, his own half-filled with neatly folded clothes. 

“You know, honey, what if you order us some food, okay? And I’ll finish this up, yeah?”

Louis shrugs. “Sure.” He stands, walking over to the dresser to fetch his phone. He heads out the door to get the takeout menus from the kitchen, and hears Harry call after him to please bring his phone upstairs when he comes back. 

Louis orders them Thai food, requesting extra spring rolls because he knows Harry eats those in masses. He stays downstairs while he waits for the food to arrive, searching through the kitchen for Harry’s phone. He finally catches eye of it by the stove behind an oven mitten, no idea how it managed to get there. He picks it up, and it buzzes in his hand as if on cue, alerting him to a text message. 

Louis blinks as he surveys the screen, something tingling somewhere inside him. It’s not any of the various messages waiting on the screen that has caught his eye, but the lock screen picture in the background. He stands still on the threshold at the entrance of the kitchen, regarding the summer set picture. He is staring at his own face, eyes hidden by shades, his cheek pressed into Harry’s. He’s sitting on one of the sun chairs on Harry’s terrace, one leg on each side. Harry is behind him, sitting in the same position with his arms wrapped around Louis’ torso, and his mouth is open in a huge smile. Louis can see the happiness on his own face despite the sunglasses covering his eyes, and the crinkles around them that immediately disclose if his smile is real.

He looks happy. Really, really happy. 

The alarm system goes off, telling him there is someone on the property. The food has arrived, and Louis tears his eyes from the picture, pocketing the device as he makes his way to the front door. He quickly shuts off the alarm, and grabs a few notes from the bowl on the bureau in the hall. 

He makes his way upstairs with boxes of Thai a couple minutes later, Harry’s phone tucked in his jeans. Harry is nearly finished with their packing when he opens the door to his room, and he beams as soon as he sees the food in Louis’ arms.

“Extra spring rolls for you,” Louis says, giving him a tentative smile. 

“Ooh, yes. I could just kiss you!” Harry declares, hands instantly reaching for the box. Louis hesitates, but it takes Harry a moment longer before he realises what he just said. He blanches slightly, clearing his throat and looking down as he takes the box from Louis’ hand.

“No problem,” Louis mumbles, cheeks warming up entirely. He doesn’t quite know when comments like that started meaning something it didn’t before.

Louis sits down on the floor, clearing his throat awkwardly as he starts dividing the food in the midst of the clothes spread out around them. Harry, sitting leaned against the bed, keeps his eyes cast down at the box of spring rolls, and remains silent. He picks up a pair of black boxers, folding them and tucking them into Louis’ suitcase.

“Should, uh, we talk about that…?” he asks, voice too aloof and unbothered.

Louis keeps his eyes on his noodles, poking it with his chopsticks. “Talk about what?” he asks, trying to come off just as casual. He fails as spectacularly as Harry.

“Us… snogging.”

“What about it?” he gets out in an all too squeaky voice.

“You know… communication? That’s what we said yesterday, yeah?” Louis looks up to find Harry already looking at him, eyes flickering over his face nervously. 

“Okay… If you want.” Louis gives in, taking a breath. “It was for practice so… did it help?”

“Uhm,” Harry swallows. “I don’t know? Maybe?”

He nods. “Err, so… Are you nervous about doing it in public after you’re out?”

“A bit, I guess.” Harry purses his lips. 

Dear, God. 

“Would, err, practicing more… help?” This is even worse than the conversation about Harry’s fucking lingerie. Louis’ face is flaming, and Harry’s looks like he is wishing he could sink through the freaking floor. “Might make you less nervous, you know?” Goodness.

There is a part of Louis that definitely wants Harry to nod, cup his face, and kiss him, because kissing Harry is — _was_ wonderful. He came out of that bathroom walking on Cloud Nine, and Harry must have enjoyed it if Zayn was right about… the stuff he said. The thing is, he very well knows that only a few number of people will ever make him feel like this, but just because it doesn’t feel completely wrong kissing Harry doesn’t mean that it’s _that_. They have been friends since they were children, and perhaps that’s the simple reason. 

He can’t know for sure. Perhaps kissing him again is a way to find the answer. 

“Do you want to? I don’t want to make you,” Harry says hesitantly.

“You’re not making me do anything. Told you that night, yeah? Kissing you is not bad. ”

“Well, I don’t want my kisses to be ‘not bad’. I want you to like it — no, no, I didn’t mean that,” he interrupts himself, realising just how much that is to ask. He’s not eloquent, Louis’ Harry, but he sure is endearing. “I meant, I don’t want to bore you, or whatever. I only want to do it if you’re… at least enjoying it a little.”

Louis takes a deep breath, putting down his noodles. His fingertips are almost tingling. “I understand what you mean, even if you can’t express yourself for shit. But I promise, H, it’s not a chore. Far from. I want to.”

Harry looks up, eyes wide. “You want to?”

“Yeah?” Louis’ breath shakes a little, his heart still pumping in hot pounds. 

“Now?” Harry exhales, eyes already intent on Louis’ lips, and. Oh. Okay.

“Okay.”

Harry is moving from his spot against the bed in less than a second, pushing the food aside and scrambling over to where Louis is sitting. Louis inhales deeply in surprise, eyes widening as the younger man steps over a grey jumper, and gets on his knees in front of him. It takes Harry less than two seconds to straddle Louis’ lap, knees on the floor on either side of him, his hands cupping his jaw. 

Louis blinks, able to feel Harry’s warm breath against his face. He angles his chin up a bit to see him better, Harry’s long hair hiding his eyes somewhat. His heart is pounding so hard he can feel it in his throat. 

He lifts a shaky finger and tucks Harry’s hair away behind his ears. Harry’s thumbs are still warmly resting against his cheeks, feeling like tiny pads belonging to one of those defibrillators doctor’s use to regain a patient’s pulse. It definitely feels like he flatlines when Harry leans down and gently places his plush lips against Louis’. 

Harry exhales through his nose, and Louis can feel it against the skin above his lip. His nose is pressing into the side of his own, hands light around his face, and Louis’ stomach is free falling. Knowing what to expect when kissing Harry makes it better. So much better. 

It’s not slow like how they started out that time a few weeks ago — it’s intense from the start. He gasps for air when Harry lets him, but there’s barely a moment for reprieve before he is being pressed to Harry’s chest again. His hand is cupping his neck, the other tied in his hair, and Louis’ neck is straining at the way he is pulling him in. He has already decided he likes the way Harry kisses — all enthusiasm and eagerness — but it’s a bit scary how it makes him feel. 

It’s those flip-flops in his tummy from Harry’s small touches against his skin yesterday, but amplified. It makes his entire being lighter, his fingertips quivering as he lets himself touch the boy straddling him. Harry is kissing him hungrily, without hesitation, and it’s a bit funny, because Harry is all nerves and awkwardness up until the point where Louis allows him to kiss him, and then he turns ardent and impatient, fervent in every touch. 

Louis is different. He can feel the exhilaration building through him, and when Harry touches him in this way it explodes into electric shocks, every nerve spiked. His every sense is on high alert, and he can barely believe he is doing it when he presses Harry closer, wanting him as near as possible. 

Harry hums from down his throat, a low sound that seems to vibrate through him. He is bracketing Louis’ torso where he stands on his knees, hands still clutched around his head. Louis pulls him in by his hips, able to feel the tight skin around Harry’s bones, warm under his t-shirt. He slips his hands under the edge of the fabric, unable to help his wandering hands. Harry groans instantly, pushing closer, and Louis would lose balance if Harry weren’t holding him upright. 

“Mmmf,” he moans, hand slipping down to Louis’ shoulder, squeezing. “Lou…” he breathes against his lips. His breath is all warmth, and his mouth tastes like the gum he constantly chews. Louis wants more of him. He tightens his hands on his lower back, hands sinking a fair bit. Harry’s skin prickles with goosebumps, and he lets out another little whine. 

Louis knows this is not how practicing should be, but he is not responsible for the thought that shoots through his head that says _it should be like this_.

“Ah,” Harry gasps when Louis pulls him closer to himself, tongue licking along the roof of Harry’s mouth. “Ah, God. Shit.” He inhales sharply. “Fuck, Lou. We have to stop.”

Louis sucks another kiss to his bottom lip. 

“No, no,” Harry protests, leaning away. There is a pained expression on his face when Louis opens his eyes. “I can’t — I’m. Louis, I’m getting really hot.” Louis blinks slowly over his glassy eyes. “ _Hard_ ,” Harry clarifies desperately, whispering. 

“Oh,” Louis exhales, letting his hands fall off Harry’s body, placing them on the floor. Harry’s cheeks are red, even the tip of his nose pink. Louis’ eyes helplessly fall to his crotch, only centimetres from his own torso. He is hard. Confirmed. 

“I —”

“You wanna… go in there and… we’ll eat after? I’ll go downstairs.” 

Harry looks like he would rather _die_ than do just that when Louis is highly aware of it. “It’s fine, we should just… probably stop,” he says. He clears his throat, and starts to awkwardly climb off of him. 

Louis finds it almost painful how much he doesn’t want him to go, but this is not appropriate for their friendship. You don’t get off with your friends, and… Louis doesn’t get off unless… Well.

“I’ll go reheat the food. We can eat in front of the telly,” he says, sparing Harry of another moment of painful silence. He quickly gathers the abandoned boxes and stray chopsticks, exiting the room. He can finally breathe when he is alone, taking a moment just standing at the top of the stairs and breathing. 

It is something more, isn’t it?

His phone buzzes from his back pocket with a Twitter alert. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second part! :)
> 
> If you want to say hi :)  
> tumblr: [isthatyoularry](http://isthatyoularry.tumblr.com/)  
> twitter: [isthatyoularry](https://twitter.com/isthatyoularry)

The afternoon they land at John F. Kennedy airport the sun is beaming through the few clouds surrounding it. Late August in New York City is surprisingly warm, and after hours on a plane the only thing Louis wants to do is take a shower. The flight felt longer than it should have, and Louis spent most of it catching up on the public perception of his and Harry’s relationship. 

There is still talk about the music video for _Never Enough_. Though the segment about Louis being in the video was not aired in the final cut of the interview, enough people who had been in the audience have taken to social media, and it is safe to say there are a fair amount of rumours about it online. Sugarscape and Yahoo Celeb have already written articles based on the rumours, and Louis doesn’t know if the team is going to do anything about it. 

At any rate, most fans are coming to the right conclusion. They have already been told the video is going to be quite erotic, and if Sophia is going to be in it then she will most likely be with Liam. Louis is Harry’s friend, and as far as any of them know he doesn’t have any skills that’d be useful in a music video for any other reason than… well, even the fans who haven’t explicitly thought it seem to be on the way to realise there is something happening. 

Timeline wise, everything is going well. There are only a few weeks until it’s time for Harry’s coming out and the album release, and Louis can agree that Jeff and the teams have done well with their fauxmance. Harry isn’t close to be outed, but not a soul would be all too surprised by the coming ‘shock reveal’. 

However, a paparazzo had been at LAX when they left last night — or morning, if you will — and had taken Harry’s picture. Louis doesn’t know if it was for some sort of promotion for the upcoming GMA performance, but people have started speculating about the reason for Harry arriving earlier in NYC than his band mates. Fans are unaware that Louis was with him, but what they do know is that one of Harry’s smaller past publicity flings — an Emma _Something_ , seriously Louis had no idea of her existence until now — is having a birthday dinner tonight. Which of course Harry has no intention of attending, but it’s something the fans have been discussing for the last few hours.

They arrive at their hotel at three in the afternoon, dropping their bags onto the floor. Louis instantly flees into the shower to wash off the summer sweat, and the overload of fandom conversation that honestly for a second there made _him_ wonder what was really going on. 

He comes out refreshed and free from confusion, towel tied around his waist and water drops dripping down his skin. He finds Harry sitting on the edge of one of the big beds, eyes cast down on his lap where he is flipping his phone over in his hands. He looks slightly put off, a small crease having surfaced between his brows. 

“Hey,” Louis says as he reaches for his suitcase that’s resting on top the other bed. “Y’alright?” He pulls out a pair of black boxers from his bag, tugging them on under the towel. 

Harry shrugs where he is sitting, lips pursed. “Jeff called.”

“Oh? What’s up?”

“Nothing, really. Just making plans…”

Louis looks up from his suitcase. “Plans?”

“Comin’ out stuff. Scheming… Whatever.”

Louis drops his towel onto the floor, picking up a random black t-shirt from the bag. He walks over to Harry’s bed, running a hand through his wet hair, shaking it out.

“Thanks, mate,” Harry mutters, brushing water droplets off his cheeks.

“Sorry,” Louis chuckles. “Love… what’s bothering you?”

Harry sighs. “It’s just the whole planning it, and making it a huge fucking deal.”

“Can’t you tell him to just make it a bit more candid?” Harry looks at him incredulously. “Okay, okay,” Louis says, taking a moment to think. “Can _we_ do anything?”

Harry shrugs. “I don’t think there is much. Unless we do something for the fans to see.”

Louis purses his lips. “What if we just… when we’re out today, we will hold hands? We’ll just walk around and swing our hands, and it’s New York, right? Someone is bound to recognise you and take a photo, yeah? It will help things to move along.”

“Fake candid,” Harry chuckles quietly, biting his lip. “It might work…?”

“Do you want to?”

“Okay,” he agrees, a small smile playing on his lips. “Okay, yeah.”

“Alright,” Louis grins, slapping his thighs. “Now, get dressed in something Harry-ish, and we’ll go.”

He is about to stand from the bed when Harry’s hand closes around his wrist, keeping him in place. He turns his head to face him, and finds him looking at him with something close to wonder in his eyes.

“How do you always manage to fix everything?” he asks, murmuring. “How do make everything better? How are you you?”

Louis heart pumps a little faster, his neck warming. “Perhaps I just bring a little outside perspective?” he tries, whispering. “Sometimes it’s easy to feel stuck when you’ve been in the same spot for a long time.”

Harry blinks. “How are you you?” he repeats, completely incredulous. 

Louis can feel the warmth building up to his jaw, probably colouring his cheeks, too. “I’m a better person when I’m with you,” he admits. 

Harry regards him quietly, and a small little frown starts forming.

Louis clears his throat, looking down at where Harry’s fingers are still laced around his wrist. “Back home, I… I kind of allow myself to be lazy. My friends aren’t that ambitious at the moment — well most of them — and I let myself fall into their tempo. I get lazy, and scared of growing up, and I hate being lazy and scared.”

“Perhaps you needed a little break from home and old habits. Sometimes you do.”

“It’s been like a holiday being here. Not that I don’t take this with you very seriously —”

Harry smiles, dimples peeking out. “I know you do.” He leans in, and presses a small kiss to his cheek. “We help each other out then.”

Okay. Simmer down, Louis thinks. He exhales shakily. 

“Shall we go out then?”

Harry nods. “Just let me get dressed.” 

“Me, too.” He stands from the bed, and Harry’s hand releases his arm, Louis giving him a small smile before pulling his t-shirt over his head. Harry’s eyes linger on him for a few seconds, until he finally stands and heads into the bathroom. Louis can still feel the touch of his lips against his cheekbone. 

They start their afternoon by grabbing some coffee at the nearest café. Louis is in black jeans and a matching t-shirt, a black Adidas cap on his head. Harry is in a sky blue shirt with short sleeves, unbuttoned to that obnoxious butterfly of his. A pair of fake glasses sits in his hair, and with his long hair and tight jeans he looks exactly like the ™ version of Harry Styles. He is gorgeous, of course, but Louis idly thinks he prefers him in jumpers and beanies.

They spend what is left of the day strolling around the city. They check out Empire State Building and Rockefeller Center, and they spend a while at the memorial of the twin towers. Louis marvels at how many people there are everywhere, how tall the buildings are, and also how weirdly easy Harry gets around without being stopped. 

Harry’s hand is perpetually tied with Louis’, not letting it go for a moment. His palm is warm and his hand big, tugging Louis along as he talks and points at various things they come across. He sips on his second coffee of the day as the sun starts settling, and they are somewhere near Central Park. Louis isn’t entirely sure.

“It’d be so cool if Central Perk existed. I’d have loved to go there.”

Harry gives him a sympathetic look. “You know _Friends_ was filmed in Los Angeles? Right, love?”

Louis’ jaw drops. “What?!” he gasps. “You’re lying!”

Harry cackles, throwing his head back. “No, it’s true.”

Louis stares at him, mouth open, completely scandalised. “No,” he whispers.

“Aww,” Harry giggles. “Baby, we can check out Chuck Bass’s hotel, though?”

Louis sighs. “I’d rather go see Blair Waldorf’s building, actually. It’s right on 5th.”

Harry grins. “Let’s go then. We got all night.” His hand squeezes Louis’, and tugs him forward to the curb. He waves when a yellow cab drives past them, and it stops by the pavement. They jump inside, cheering at the driver.

“Hey,” the man says, surprise in his eyes. “You’re the Styles kid. Watched you on Super Bowl!”

Harry smiles. “I am, indeed. Hello to you. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to see ya kid. Where can I take ya?”

“If you could drop us off at the start of 5th Avenue that’d be ace.”

“Right on it.” He swerves out on the street a bit too recklessly for Louis’ liking, heading straight into the traffic. Louis tightens his hand around Harry’s. “So, you’re here for GMA then? They’ve been talking about this for weeks.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Cool,” he nods. “Looking forward to hearing the new tracks. Which ones are you performing?”

“Uhm,” Harry hums. “Drag Me Down, What A Feeling, Walking In The Wind, and End of the Day.”

“Awesome. I’m intrigued. Can you sing for me kid? We can use you instead of the radio,” he laughs, and Louis can so easily imagine this man driving his taxi around all day, being cheeky with his customers.

Harry laughs, and Louis smirks as he starts humming _Single Ladies_ by Beyoncé. The cabbie laughs throatily, turning to grin at them. 

“So, what’re you up to tonight?”

“Just showin’ me pal around the city,” Harry says, smiling down at him affectionately. “It’s his first time in New York.”

“Oh, really,” the cabbie says, looking back through the rear view mirror. He is silent for a few seconds, before he turns back to face the street in front of him. “Louis, isn’t it? Your boyfriend, or something?”

Louis looks at Harry, eyes wide in surprise, but Harry doesn’t waver.

“Yes,” is what he replies, looking proud as he grins brightly. “He is.”

“Cool, cool. I mean, my daughter said so. She calls ya ‘Larry’.”

Harry giggles while Louis snorts. “I heard about that. Tell her hi from us.”

“I definitely will.”

“Nice to meet you, man,” Louis says as they exit the taxi a few minutes later. “Cheers.”

“Take care! Good luck on GMA, kid.”

Harry thanks him, smiling as he steps out of the vehicle. He immediately takes Louis’ hand again, pulling him closer. His grin is big and his dimples have been popping out all day, and the feeling of his warm hand around Louis’ has been a constant boost of happiness.

Louis has missed this. He has missed holding hands, small kisses, and snogging sessions. He has wanted a boyfriend for a long time, and just this small part of it, his hand tucked in Harry’s, makes him miss it even more. Fake boyfriends or not, there is something in him that wishes for more of this. More of Harry. 

They end the night with standing outside the building that fictionally belongs to Blair Waldorf, holding hands and talking. They head into a restaurant to get some dinner eventually, before they head back to their hotel. There has been surprisingly few people recognising Harry during the day, but he seems completely content anyway. He has been taking pictures all day, making Louis pose in front of various objects. He has Snapchatted at least ten pictures to Lottie, and sent Louis’ mum the important ones in front of the big landmarks.

“Why didn’t you bring your proper camera?” Louis asks as they’re in the lift, on their way up to their floor.

Harry clears his throat, looking down at his boots. “Erm… it’s actually in London.”

“In London? Why is it back there? You haven’t stayed there for longer than a few weeks in like a year.”

“I guess I lost interest back when things were particularly bad…” he admits quietly. “To be honest, I kind of wish I had it right now. Haven’t taken any real pictures in so long.”

“You’ll be back in London for UK promo in a while, yeah? We’ll grab it then,” Louis says soothingly, rubbing the small of his back. 

The lift makes a soft noise, and the doors open. They head into their room, and Louis instantly flops down on one of the beds, kicking off his shoes and throwing away his hat. He toes off his socks, his feet aching from walking all day, and Harry watches him with mild disgust and amusement. Louis kicks off his jeans and rolls in under the fluffy duvet. He has barely spared an eye at the fancy hotel room, but from the way the duvet feels around he bets it’s a nice one. He closes his eyes.

“Not even gonna brush your teeth?”

“Nope.”

Harry chuckles, and it only takes a few minutes before he is climbing into bed. Louis has turned over to burrow into the pillow, but he feels Harry tugging at his sides. He pulls him back toward himself, and Louis groans as he feels Harry tuck himself around him, arm over his waist. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, yawning. 

“Felt like.”

“Do you even like being the big spoon?” he hums, smacking his lips a little.

“Not really.” He squeezes Louis closer. “I just like hugging you.”

Louis is a second away from falling asleep. “That’s alright.” 

He clocks out with Harry’s breath in his neck.

On their second New York day, they go out to see the Statue of Liberty. Harry is in a flowery button down, the fake glasses are in his hair like the day before, and Louis is in a long-sleeved black shirt, having done his hair up for the day. Harry wasn’t entirely satisfied with the result of their handholding the previous day (only people who refer to the two of them as ‘Larry’ had been talking about it, and there was no photographic evidence), so they tried to look more recognisable today. They are also heading out to an even more touristy area, so Louis figures it will help, too. 

He had wondered if it weren’t for the best if Alberto came with them, knowing Harry’s BG arrived in the city this morning, but Harry had insisted they’d be okay. He said it wasn’t fair to Alberto to drag him all over the city when they have to be up at dawn the coming morning. 

At any rate, Harry is sitting tucked into Louis’ side on a tourist boat circling the Statue of Liberty. They spent the first few hours checking out Ellis Island, learning about how the immigrants came there in thousands per day when they arrived in America. Louis’ stomach is already growling for food as the wind licks their hairs, Harry folding further into him. 

“This is ruining my hair,” Louis mutters. 

“You look hot.” He isn’t even looking at him. 

They finally get closer to the green statue, the boat moving around it in a slow pace for all the tourists to get a good look. Louis observes it with interest, squinting up against the sun. Quite symbolical, if you ask him. 

“She looks quite small.”

“Shut the fuck up, Lou,” Harry snickers, and Louis grins, and wraps his arm around Harry’s shoulders to keep him close.

They get back to Ellis Island after half an hour, and they stand from their seats when they are allowed to get off the boat. Harry stretches, his back cracking audibly, but he doesn’t do anything other than smile when Louis grimaces at the sound. He laces his fingers with Louis’, letting him walk first as they head down the ramp. His hand is warm and gentle just like yesterday, but there is something else about him today, something shinier.

Louis begins making lunch plans, also reminding Harry that he has yet to see Times Square or gotten a proper view of Brooklyn bridge, as they stroll toward the long bridge linked between the island and mainland. 

“Excuse me!” someone to their right says, and their steps falter as they find two young women there, phones in their hands. 

“Hi?” Harry says, squeezing Louis’ hand tighter when he tries to pull his hand back. 

Both girls are brunettes, wearing expensive clothing and brightly coloured lipstick. One of them starts explaining that they are huge fans of Harry’s in a thick French accent, and the other one nods eagerly. They ask for pictures, and Louis smiles pleasantly as he takes their phones to snap a few photos of them and Harry. When he’s finished the girls start talking to him and pointing to Harry, and it takes him a moment to understand what they mean. 

“Oh, you want a picture with me and him?” He looks at Harry, who shrugs with an arched brow. “Alright,” Louis agrees, and smoothly laces his arm around Harry’s little waist. The boy folds into him easily, grinning brightly into the camera. 

The girls thank them profusely once they have gotten their picture, and when they leave Harry doesn’t waste a second before he links his hand with Louis’ again. 

“Love how they say your name… _Lou-is_ ,” Harry hums, grinning. 

“They didn’t seem to be put off by me holding your hand,” Louis adds breezily. 

“And they knew who you were,” Harry points out. “I’m sure this will be on Twitter within fifteen.”

“I’m not betting against you. We need to get lunch, though, because I’m fucking starving.”

They head back to Liberty State Park, and onward into inner Manhattan to find some place to eat. Louis steals Harry’s fake glasses as they walk, sticking them on nose and keeping them. Harry barely says anything, only reassures him he looks attractive. Louis doesn’t think he needs more of an ego boost than Harry. He isn’t cheap with compliments. 

They find a small café on a smaller, pretty street. They settle down at the table out front, ankles hooking under the table. Harry is wearing a small, pleased smile, and he doesn’t keep his eyes off Louis as he orders them salads and smoothies from the waitress. 

Harry brings out his phone to snap a picture of him as they wait for their lunch. Louis crosses his arms on the table and makes a funny face, Harry quiet behind the device he is holding up. He seems to be regarding the picture with a look of something like fascination mixed with wonder. 

“Turn out any good?”

Harry lowers the device, setting on the table by his side. But instead of answering, he without a word slowly reaches out and pushes his hand into Louis’ hair from across the table, carding it back through his fingers in soft motions, thumbing it carefully. Louis almost closes his eyes, Harry’s hands so gentle, but his heartbeat is picking up, and he feels a sudden uncertainty when he meets Harry’s eyes.

“You look…” Harry trails off, mouth still slightly ajar as he keeps moving his fingers through his hair in tiny motions. He slowly tips his head to the other side, blinking languidly over his big, green eyes. 

“Something on my face?” Louis asks quietly, locked in Harry’s heavy gaze, heart drumming on.

He shakes his head slowly, silent. His fingers drop to his cheek, touching the skin beneath the glasses. “Just… hard to explain how I feel about you.”

Louis watches him swallow thickly, and something trickles like syrup inside him. _How do you feel about me_ , is a question that is on the tip of his tongue, and… it’s hard to not think Harry means something when he looks at him like this, and says things like that. Ever since they kissed in the pub every move is questionable. Everything is confusing. 

Someone clears their throat, and they look up to see the waitress holding two smoothies in one hand and balancing two salad plates in the other. Louis hurries to help put the smoothies down and gets a cheerful thank you, and two plates are placed in front of them. 

They will have to talk about this, eventually. Louis is starting to realise this, because it’s getting a lot more confusing than it’s ever been. 

  
**(AN: original manip credit:[xxxx](http://omgqqpios.tumblr.com/post/132669230531%0A) )**

Louis could be a horse. Sleeping while standing is so his thing. Piece of cake. 

“You look like you are going to pass out,” Niall tells him, sipping on a cup of hot tea. It is dark out, Louis is feeling like a turtle hiding in its shell, trying to disappear into the fabric of his hoodie, while Harry is making weird noises with his voice in front of the vocal coach. 

Louis reluctantly opens his eyes, very aware of his 6:30 AM double chin. He regards Niall for a short moment before he closes his eyes again, deepening his double chin as he shivers. “I will if I don’t get a coffee soon.”

“Think they’re on their way,” Harry says by his side. 

Louis slaps his arm without opening his eyes. “Focus.”

The boys are scheduled to be on stage in half an hour. They’ve been on set since almost two hours ago, sound-checking and warming up. Louis felt like dying when Harry shook him awake earlier, only to bring him down to the waiting car at the back of the hotel, and eventually having him shiver in the New York morning, waiting for the live television show to start. He can hear the big crowd on the other side of the big stage, but it’s far from enough to make his eyes stop drooping. 

Harry makes more noises, Niall slurps on his tea, and he can hear Liam and Zayn bickering somewhere in the distance. He is pitying the fact that none of the other boys’ friends are around, leaving him without people who don’t actually have work to do. He could use a cuddle with someone who isn’t warming up their voice with scary notes. But whatever. It will have to do. 

“Hug me,” he grumps, blindly wrapping his arms around Harry from the side, faceplanting into his shoulder. 

He feels him take a large breath, exhaling in a low note as he laces his nearest arm around his back, hand stroking his hoodie covered back and warming his skin. He keeps singing, shoulders rising and falling as he breathes thoroughly. Niall starts joining him in harmonies a few minutes later, and when Liam and Zayn come along they go over a few choruses a couple of times. Louis is a moment away from sleeping — their beautiful harmonies dangerously efficient as a lullaby — when someone comes over to tell them it’s time to get their equipment on, another pressing a coffee cup in Louis’ hand. 

The show starts when the clock hits seven. Louis watches from the side with Grace and Amelia as the boys open their set with _Drag Me Down_ , hugging himself and shifting on his feet, waiting for the sun to start peeking out properly and bring them the summer warmth. It doesn’t look too promising by the look of those grey clouds. The lads’ voices echo around them, the crowd’s cheering and screaming deafening. The turnout is entirely incredible, Times Square filled to the max with people yelling the lyrics back at the stage. Louis is highly aware of how successful they are as a band, but seeing it like this is eye-opening on a different level. 

The boys’ vocals are on point, and they continue into the second song with bit a small talk in between. They praise the crowd for their excellent engagement, and Liam spends a moment explaining what the next song is about. They are premiering two new songs off the album today, and the coming one Louis knows is _End of the Day_ , the song the album is named off. 

“This is song we have never performed before…” Liam says, and the cheers from the crowd actually hurts Louis’ ears. “We named the album after this one, because we found it very fitting. It’s about taking the day as it comes, because after all everything just is the way it is. You want what you want… you say what you say… and most of all you love who you love.”

They kick off the song after that, and it is so ridiculously catchy that the crowd knows the chorus by the time the ending note rings out over the square. Niall laughs into his microphone as Harry’s voice closes the song, and instantly starts retelling an anecdote about writing the song with Liam. 

“We have another surprise for you,” Harry says later on after a commercial break, making the crowd scream. “It’s a quite personal song that I wrote with a friend of ours, Julian. It’s about someone special. It’s a song a lot of people can relate on, or will one day have to. It’s about losing someone to… the other side, if you will.”

He clears his throat softly, and the crowd is surprisingly quiet as he announces the name. “This is _Walking in the Wind_.”

The song is one of Louis’ favourites. The lyrics are beautiful and can make anyone teary eyed, the bridge emotional and powerful in an almost haunting way. Harry carries out every note expertly, but his gravelly voice and the emotion in it makes it sound realer in the most heart-stopping way. Perhaps Louis is biased — or maybe he is not, judging by the look on the face of a girl in the crowd standing closest to him. _Fuck, I know_ , he wants to tell her. 

They end the set with their current single, _What A Feeling_. The crowd knows every line, on they almost overpower the microphones impressively. They nail the harmonies, and eventually come off stage with the largest of grins on their faces. It’s been a long time since they performed more than one song, and Louis can tell they are relieved it went so well. 

“Congrats. Sounded sick,” Louis says as he meets Harry behind the stage, giving him a quick hug before Julia starts doting his face with powder and concealer. 

“Thanks,” Harry breathes. They have only got a couple minutes before he needs to be on stage for the big interview, and Louis watches him chug the bottle of water he is handed by a passing person. He is freed from Julia a moment later, and Louis follows him over to the edge of the stage where Zayn is already waiting for the rest of the lads to go out and sit down in the chairs set up for them. Louis can spot the two interviews, one middle aged woman and a man in the same age range, cards and microphones in their hands. 

“Don’t gush too much about me,” Louis says, grinning back at Harry’s smile. They are both aware Jeff has blacklisted the topic of Louis and love lives completely, and Harry’s telling off after John Hoechlin’s interview is still fresh in memory. 

The interview on Good Morning America starts out fine. Louis is standing with Alberto in a far corner, view slightly diagonal, but he can see Harry and Niall’s faces, the other two boys somewhat hidden by the presenter’s heads. They begin with talking about their performance, and how good it feels to be back on stage since the last tour ended. The chat about the album goes on for the better part of the first half, and they take a short commercial break before heading back into it. Which is when it goes to hell. 

The male interviewer, a dark haired man with a buzzed goatee, heads onto a forbidden trail, directing his words at Harry, who is sitting faced with cameras feeding everything live to the rest of the country and the thousands of people watching him on location. 

“So, Harry,” he says in his American accent, and it is already in the air that this doesn’t bode well. Louis can see Jack tense up where is standing a few metres away with his hand fisting a piece of paper, anxious look in his eye. 

“Yep?” Harry responds, cheerful and at ease. Louis can see the way his entire body tenses up as the interviewer starts talking next, how his jaw clenches. Louis can _feel_ the nauseous turmoil in his stomach.

“There has been a lot of speculation about you in the papers for the last couple of months, ” the man says. “It’s all about you and a male pal. Everyone, your fans, and the tabloids, and even people who rather watch golf than your movie have heard about it. There have been trends on Twitter, wondering what’s going on. Would you mind telling us, man?”

It’s entirely obvious how casual he tries to sound, as if they are just chatting, bro to bro. But the place is eerily quiet as he waits for Harry to respond, and the fact that he put him on the spot like this despite being told to not enter the subject is entirely inexcusable. Louis’ eyes are wide, and he is left staring in shock at the scene playing out before his eyes. 

Harry opens his mouth just barely, fish-mouthing as his brows are knitted in offence. The man in front of him is carelessly trying to force him to either out himself, or possibly deny his relationship with his alleged partner. It is the furthest from okay. 

“You know,” Niall is the one to suddenly speak up, and he is squinting, “I can tell you something. I can tell you just how ridiculous that question is. It sounds like you’re investigating a bloody murder. So what, people have been talking about it? Why does he owe you an explanation for hanging out with someone he has known for his entire life? And why is it a big deal? Because Lou’s a bloke? It’s the stupidest thing I ever heard.”

“My friend Andy spent the majority of our last tour with me,” Liam adds in. Louis can hear him talk, but his eyes are solely on his best mate, teeth gritted into his cheeks. “I don’t see people asking me questions about it.”

“But —” the woman tries, but she is cut off. 

“So, Harry likes sharing pictures on his Instagram, or simply hang out with his friends in public, and then he gets an investigation for it?”

“Alright, alright I hear you,” the man says. “So, there is nothing going on there between you and your male friend?”

Louis watches Harry’s eyes darken significantly, and he knows how much it takes of Harry, the kindest person Louis knows, to not lose it. Jack is a second away from tearing his piece of paper into shreds.

“Going on?” Harry finally says, sighing loudly. “What does ‘going on’ even mean, _man_? Like, you could ask if there is something going on between me and Niall, and I’d say hell yeah, there is something going on. We write sick tracks together. Or, you could ask about me and my lawyer, and I’d say fuck yes, she’s working on my lawsuit toward invasive interviewers.”

The place is dead silent after that, several seconds going by, through which Harry is simply staring the male interviewer straight in the eye, as if he is daring him to continue. This GMA interview went from a Classic Amiableness to a Kanye level in a heartbeat. This will reach every corner of the world. 

The blonde woman clears her throat when nothing else happens, looking down at her cards. “Right, we’ll be taking a bit of a break. Stick around for the break, and we will see you in a bit with more.”

As soon as they are off air, Harry is out of his chair and stalking away. Liam is instantly by his side, arm around his shoulders and talking into his ear, meanwhile Niall and Zayn are left smiling unpleasantly at the interviewers with antagonising looks.

Jack meets Harry by the edge of the stage, saying something with a pat on the shoulder before he runs off to start barking at someone with a headset. Louis is unsure of what to do, feeling out of place as someone else from the team starts talking to Harry and Liam with a shrill voice. But then Harry starts breathing heavily, blinking quickly, and soon he is full on hyperventilating. Louis rushes up to him in lightning speed. 

“Hey, hey,” he says, grasping his shoulders as Harry starts to sit down on the floor, shoulders heaving as his breath quickens. Harry’s eyes shoot up, and his fingers instantly clench around Louis’ wrists, nails digging into the thin skin. “Hey, love,” Louis whispers, bending down to level their eyes. “Breathe, okay? Slow inhales, alright?”

Harry stares at him, eyes shiny and ribcage expanding erratically. Louis’ words don’t seem to help, so he takes hold of Harry’s wrists instead, changing their positions so Harry’s hands are resting on his shoulders, and Louis fingers are circling his wrists. 

“Like me, yeah?” he nods. “Follow my lead. Time your breaths with me, come on.” He inhales deeply, and Harry nods, drawing in a shaky breath. It takes a few tries until his ribcage is expanding somewhat steadily, his eyes wide and focusing on Louis’ as he takes slow breaths. “There you go, love.”

Harry blows his cheeks out, and drops his hands from Louis’ shoulders when his breathing has steadied, almost normal. He squeezes his eyes closed for moment as if to push out every overwhelmed emotion from his head. He gets a short moment of reprieve, before Jack comes back. 

“Get up, we’re leaving, Harry.” He bends down and gently takes hold of his elbow to help him up. “The cars are ready. Let’s go.”

“We’re leaving?” Louis asks disbelievingly. 

Jack nods without looking at him as he begins to move Harry toward the back exit. “We told them not to go this route. They’ve already performed and done most of the interview, so we’ll go now.”

Shocked, but nonetheless pleased that the boys can actually afford ditching something as big as GMA, Louis follows Jack and Harry with Alberto in tow. Liam is left talking to someone else, and it doesn’t take long before he can see Niall and Zayn coming off stage. Alberto grabs Louis’ elbow, and starts guiding him in the right direction in a fast pace, and he is soon stuffed into a black car with Harry and Jack, the other boys disappearing into similar vehicles. They make their exit through a smaller alley, speeding away as quickly as possible. 

Harry bends down to place his head between his knees at one point, and Louis rubs his lower back with as much warmth as he can muster up. “Sorry, H,” he hums with a sad frown. “I’m sorry.”

Talking with Jeff over the phone a couple hours later is nothing but draining. It’s as though the world is agreeing, because small droplets of rain has been smattering against the windows since they arrived back at the hotel.

It’s all about damage control, Jeff laying out the plan for the coming few days. There have already been apologetic tweets from the boys’ accounts about how sorry they are for abandoning the fans a bit too soon, but it doesn’t look like it’s going to ease up any talk. It has already spread everywhere. The interview has trended online since it begun, Harry’s name and the two new songs they performed along with it. It’s all about them on the internet, and hundreds of online gossip articles already have already been published, talking about the massively awkward moment on GMA. 

According to Jeff, what they need to focus on is making sure what Harry and the boys said in response to the interviewer isn’t perceived as a denial of Harry’s relationship with Louis. Fans are discussing it wildly on their forums, a lot of them fighting over whether it was a denial or not, and some arguing that they shouldn’t be speaking of it all, considering Harry ‘obviously doesn’t like speculation about his sexuality’. 

“On Sunday,” Jeff says through the phone that’s resting on the bed between Louis and Harry, “we’re doing a paparazzi outing. You two will leave your hotel on the way to the airport, and then we’ll have _The Depictor_ do a piece on you, Louis. We’ll put out a statement with a non-denial with it, just to make sure it isn’t seen as just the paper doing its own thing. But we need to make sure that the fans are slightly aware of what is going to happen in a few weeks… and I’ve talked to Nora and the rest of the guys from label and PR, and we’ve decided we need a kiss.” He pauses for a short moment. “Not any pictures, just in front of a few fans. We’ve got some people we can get to the hotel bar tonight or tomorrow.”

“Just tell us when and where,” Harry says, rubbing at his temple. “Just say when. I can’t talk about this right now.”

“Alright. I’ll get in touch with you soon, okay?”

Harry terminates the call without an answer, and leans down to rest his elbows against his thighs, grasping his head in his hands. 

“You okay?” Louis asks quietly, frowning. 

“I just…” He takes a deep, hitching breath. “I can’t stand the thought of people thinking I denied it,” he says weakly. He groans in frustration. “I’ve never explicitly lied about myself — I.”

“You didn’t lie. You just called him out for being a jerk,” Louis says, reaching out and squeezing his forearm. 

“I don’t feel so well,” Harry exhales, hand clutching over his stomach, looking pale. 

“Do you need to throw up…? Or lie down?”

He shakes his head vigorously. “I just… I can’t breathe in here.”

A moment goes by where Harry is breathing in long inhales, rocking back and forth where he is sitting on the bed. Louis regards him with a pained frown, feebly trying to come up with a solution to his distress. His head is blank for a long time, but then something appears. It’s not even a good idea, but… 

He stands from the bed, and walks over to Harry’s suitcase, starting to pull out clothing articles. He finds the pair of trainers he always brings, and picks out a hoodie and yoga pants. He puts them on the bed, before fetching a similar attire for himself. 

“Change,” he says to him, starting to pull off his own clothes. He dresses quickly, and then takes Harry’s phone and shoves into his suitcase along with his own. Harry is dressing slowly, looking at him in confusion as he stuffs the key card to the room into the tiny inner pocket of his running shorts. 

“What are we doing?” he asks with a frown, put Louis only grabs his hand and starts tugging him to the door. He doesn’t let him go, only keeps their fingers intertwined as they take the lift down to the lobby. 

There are fans outside, not too many, but enough that could cause a tiny mob. “Ignore them,” Louis says, and they duck outside with fast steps. Louis hears the fans’ gasps, but he and Harry are already rushing down the sidewalk, raindrops hitting their cheeks.

“Where are we going?” Harry asks, glancing behind him. Louis throws a look behind his shoulder, seeing some fans following them. His breath is getting a little rough already, but he grabs Harry’s elbow and hurries his step.

“You know those action films where the characters are just running?” he asks, and they quickly cross the street when there are no bypassing cars. “Like, they’re running for their bloody lives, sprinting through a burning forest, or trying to get away from some kind of monster? They just run and run and run…” He can see the entrance to the park not too far away, but the fans are still following them, only slightly further away. 

“What do you mean?” Harry asks. Louis hears someone calling Harry’s name behind him.

“I did it once,” he says. “I felt like crap after Elliott left, and I just went outside and fucking bolted through Manchester like a proper idiot. I didn’t stop once, even when it felt like I was gonna die. I just ran.” 

He doesn’t need to explain more, because when they reach the entrance of the park and the fans seem to catch up, calling Harry’s name and more people around start looking up, Harry simply bolts. He takes off like a leopard, shooting down the gravel in lightning speed. Louis isn’t far behind. He laughs, and can’t help but throw in an extra chuckle in at the shocked faces of the people surrounding them. 

Harry dashes down the path with the rain pouring down on them. He is bloody fast, too, and Louis tries to keep up as well as he possibly can. So, they run, and they run fast. Louis muscles work, and his lungs burn, but he doesn’t stop. There is a point where he could probably stop considering it’s just a game, and his legs aching, but he doesn’t, because they are running for their lives. 

He catches up to Harry at one point, completely unaware of how long they have been moving for. 

“Duck!” he yells, picking up a small rock from the ground as he spurts, launching it at Harry’s shoulder. Harry ducks just in time, a loud cackle escaping him when he realises what Louis threw at him. Louis sees him pick up a stick, throwing it behind himself, and it hits Louis in the chest. “Bastard!” he yells.

“You forgot to duck!” 

Louis’ calves are burning, but he can’t stop. Harry is somewhere on his right, having shot off to hide. Louis keeps running, passing small crowds of people here and there with umbrellas. Out of nowhere Harry reappears again, and he hurls a fucking pile of leaves into Louis’ face, cackling a maddening laugh. 

“Jump!” Louis warns, and Harry just about manages to skip over the small hedge framing the gravelly path circling around the park. He makes it onto the muddy gravel, and they keep on racing through the park. The rain is drenching them, soaking their jumpers and hairs, and spitting in their faces. Harry’s hair flies in the wind, and Louis can barely breathe, but he can appreciate how fucking free it make him look. 

Louis doesn’t know for how long they have been running when they find themselves back at where they started. There are still fans lingering with jackets pulled up over their heads, and Louis glances at Harry who is breathing harshly on a metre away.

“Past them,” Louis calls. “Onto the grass, duck under that tree,” he inhales hotly. “Round it, then past the fans again, and the person who makes it back to that patch of grass first isn’t killed by a massive fucking spider.”

Harry exhales a breathy laugh, but nods, and competition dawns on them once more. They spurt past the nearest group of girls, and step onto the grass pitch by a bench. Harry is slightly ahead of him, but Louis catches up by the time they reach the tree. They round it, both of them slipping slightly on the wet grass, but they manage to keep upright. They dash across the grass once more, and Louis is just a step ahead when they pass the people still standing in the same place. He feels it when Harry grasps hold of Louis’ jumper, keeping him from overtaking him. 

“Cheat!” Louis yells, slapping his hand and giving his shoulder a shove. Harry laughs but lets him go, letting him spurt onto the grass. Harry reached it just a second later, knocking into him with his full body weight. Louis collapses against the muddy grass, Harry landing partly on top of him. 

Louis coughs, and Harry rolls off him. They remain there, lying on their back and staring up at the grey sky, blinking at the raindrops as their chests rise and fall in laboured breaths. Louis isn’t sure if his throat has burned this much in his life, and thighs are practically shaking against the ground. 

“This was such a bad idea,” he laments, but there is a smile on his face. 

“T’was the best idea,” Harry disagrees, and starts sitting up, grinning down at Louis as he laces his arms around his knees. Louis forces himself to lift his shoulders from the ground, and leans back against his hands, legs spread in front of him. He looks up to his side, meeting Harry’s eyes. His lungs are still working, but they have slowed down severely. His hair is tousled and wet, strands plastered to his forehead and the sides of his face.

“Good,” Louis hums, giving him a small smile. He reaches up and gently removes a wet tendril from the corner of Harry’s mouth, letting his thumb brush against the spot for a small second. “I like you better this way,” he admits. 

“What?” Harry whispers. 

“I love all of you, but I like you better like this. All wet kitten and smiling,” he chuckles, a bit self-conscious. “All the dressing up for photos and performances, and the fake smiles for cameras and fans… I just, I love this. You. Here.” He swallows, face forming into a small frown.

“I like this better, too,” Harry whispers, and… He is so close, and even though he is wet and muddy Louis knows that pulling him in would make his insides flower with warmth. 

Louis leans up and presses a quick, unwarranted kiss onto Harry’s puffy lips. 

He looks away quickly after, heart on its way up his throat. He can feel it pulsing through his bloody fingertips. He doesn’t dare looking up when Harry speaks, and keeps his eyes on his dirty shoes. 

“What was that for?” he asks in a hushed voice. 

Louis shrugs, staring intently in front of them. “Just… hard to explain how I feel about you, too.”

Harry remains silent, and they end up sitting on the soaked grass for a long minute, letting the rain pour down on them. Louis knows the fans are still by the entrance of the park, and he wonders if they shouldn’t go home lest they catch colds the bunch of them. 

“Can we go back to the hotel now?” Harry asks quietly. 

They stand from the ground, their clothes drenched and disgusting. They need hot showers and tea, and Louis needs his heart to stop pounding in his fucking ears. 

They walk with quick paces, giving quick waves and hellos to the people greeting Harry on their way out. Harry smiles and answers them kindly even though Louis knows he doesn’t like when people wait around for him when he isn’t working. 

Louis keeps his eyes cast on the ground as they leave through the gated entrance, face pinched in a pained expression. He kissed Harry. His Harry. Just like that.

“Love you no matter what, Harry!” a female voice calls from a fair bit of distance. Harry stops, and hesitates only for a second before he turns around and blows a kiss in the woman’s direction. 

Louis tries to smile, but his head is already spinning with worry about the kiss. It was inappropriate, right? Not that Harry stopped it. Not that there was actually much to stop… Shit.

They get back to the hotel a few minutes later. They immediately head upstairs to their room, the sight of their muddy shoes against the squeaky clean floor slightly cringe-worthy. Louis unlocks the door with the card, and closes it behind them. While Harry walks into the room, he leans back against the door with his hands on the handle, taking a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry,” he exhales. Harry stops in the middle of the room, turning around with confusion in his eyes. 

He takes a step closer. “About what?”

“I’m sorry about the kiss,” Louis says, unable to keep it together. He can feel his cheeks warming up. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Harry shakes his head, walking closer. “Don’t be sorry. Really, don’t be,” he says. 

“I just… it was a bit… out of the ordinary?” He clears his throat, looking away as Harry comes nearer. 

“Well…” Harry says, tentatively stepping all the way up to him. “Jeff wanted us to kiss in public anyway so, might not be so bad to…” He doesn’t finish. 

Louis points his chin up as he stops in front of him, hands tightening on the door handle behind him. “... practice?” 

“Well,” Harry says, voice falling into a whisper. “That in the park, it… didn’t feel like practice.” He glances down. “Maybe I’m wrong, though, I’m not sure.”

“Not wrong,” Louis breathes. 

“I like kissing you.”

Louis swallows. Harry is very close. “Me, too.”

“Really?” 

Louis nods tentatively. 

Harry’s eyes are wide, and he keeps looking down at Louis’ lips. Louis’ breath stutters, because he can feel anticipation already building inside him. “Do you want…?” he asks breathily, eyes on Harry’s mouth. 

“If… If you want?”

Shit. 

“Listen, I can’t handle another awkward conversation about this, so if we’re gonna kiss then just make it happen. Okay?”

“Okay,” Harry breathes, and then he is kissing him square on the mouth. Louis’ eyes widen, lashes fluttering as his hands shoot up to land against Harry’s chest. 

“Oh, oh, okay,” he exhales, lips a centimetre from Harry’s. “A bit of a warning I could do with,” he gets out, almost moaning as the bridge of Harry’s nose presses against his own. He can feel his lips brush his, and if he inches forward just a bit they would be kissing again. 

Harry chuckles against his mouth.“ _Okay_ ,” he agrees, and doesn’t waste a millisecond to press his lips to Louis’ again. 

“Mmmpf,” Louis moans, fingers spreading across Harry’s chest and pressing into his wet jumper. Desire floods his entire body, spreading through him like oxygen. Everything is electric, hot. Harry is so close. 

His hands instantly got to Louis’ jaw, cupping his face delicately and pressing his body against his. He can feel his knee pushing into his naked thigh, every part of them flush against one another. Louis’ shorts ride up slightly as Harry moves his knee against his thigh, and he is immensely aware of how thin the materials of their trousers are. 

Harry is close and warm, his tongue tasting of nothing but _him_. Louis can’t control himself, and pulls Harry closer, licking into his mouth with as much urgency as Harry always has. It’s good, and his knees are already weak as Harry sucks on his lip, teeth scraping just a bit. Louis whimpers into him, and Harry exhales hotly against his mouth in return, running his hand down Louis’ arm until he reaches his waist. He squeezes his body right there, making him squirm, but move closer. 

Louis leans up on his toes and tilts his chin up to reach better, fingers shaking as he slides them into Harry’s damp hair, gripping his curls firmly. When Harry takes a second to breathe, Louis places a kiss to the edge of his jaw, and then another underneath, on his throat. Harry gasps, hand on Louis hardening. He sucks a hard kiss to his fine skin, but lets his hands fall back onto the other man’s shoulders. 

Harry’s lips find his again, and he winds his arms around Louis’ back, pulling him as close as possible to himself. Louis’ hands squeeze Harry’s body, thumbs digging into the naked flesh under his collarbone, above the edge of his shirt. 

“Fuck,” Harry exhales, pushing Louis back against the wall, thigh pressing in between his legs.

“Ow, ow, ow,” Louis winces.

“Huh?”

“Doorknob.”

“Oh.” Harry chuckles, and takes a step back, bringing Louis with him. He smiles down, biting his bottom lip as his eyes fall on Louis’ mouth. “Do you want to lie down?”

Louis blanches. “Lie down?”

“No, no,” Harry protests, eyes widening. “Not like that. I just figured — ‘cause the doorknob, and the bed is closest… Okay, shit, not like that. Maybe we should just take a shower.” Louis’ brows almost reach his hairline. “No! I mean, I meant that we should stop this before — I meant shower. Separately. We’re all wet and gross. Not that you’re gross — you’re really hot. Why is it so fucking warm in here?”

Louis rubs the side of his own face, looking away with second hand embarrassment and pink cheeks. “Shut up, Harry.”

Harry stops, and looks up at him bashfully from beneath his eyelashes. “Sorry,” he blushes. 

Louis takes his arm and turns him around, giving his back a little shove. “Come on,” he chuckles. He pushes at Harry until they reach the bathroom, keeping his hands on the small of his back. The jumper is wet and cold, and Louis is painfully aware that if he touched his bare skin beneath the fabric it would prickle with shivers. 

“Who’s first?” Harry asks, and Louis tells him to go ahead. 

He sits down on a fancy stool stationed in the corner of the room, much like in Harry’s bathroom in his L.A. house. Louis’ heart is still pumping hotly, lips raw and kiss bitten, and as Harry starts stripping off his clothes, keeping his back turned to him, he feels completely breathless. 

Harry sheds his shirt first, the soggy hoodie landing on the floor with a dull sound as he reveals his pretty back muscles. He kicks off his trainers and toes off his socks, beginning to tug at his yoga pants. He peels them off like it were liquid running down his lean legs. He is left in grey boxers, and he keeps them on as he turns on the waterfall shower. Then he pulls off his boxers. 

He stands there, completely naked and gorgeous, waiting for the water to heat up properly. His body is long and lean, shoulders broad, but not as big as he sometimes comes off in photographs. His calves are shapely and muscled, thighs soft, and his arse is round and peachy. He looks like some kind of modern day, male Aphrodite. All beauty.

Something hot, like warm syrup trickles through Louis’ stomach as he watches him from across the room, his skin starting to flame with warmth. He looks down, fiddling with his fingers in his lap. He remembers just a couple months ago, when he arrived in Los Angeles, how Harry had stood before him in the bathroom, stark naked, and he hadn’t even twisted a muscle. Now he can barely glance at him without turning red, heart fluttering like a bird’s. 

Luckily, the glass fogs up quickly once Harry has stepped inside the shower, hiding his naked body from view. Louis peels off his own jumper, letting it fall to the floor with a wet smack. He unties his trainers and pushes them into the nearest wall, piling his clothes on top. He leaves his boxers on, and strolls up to the mirror. 

The picture he finds is slightly intimidating. The twenty-four year old man in front of him looks tired, but warm. His cheeks are flushed, and lips unusually plump and red, eyes big, and pupils round and large. His hair is damp, sticking to his neck and forehead, and Louis doesn’t really know how Harry found this attractive enough to kiss. For a moment his mind inevitably wanders back to the way Harry kisses, how eager and urgent he is, acting the embodiment of enthusiasm. 

Something makes his heart stop then. The guy in the mirror visibly blanches. What if the reason why Harry kisses the way he does, so greedy and impatient, is because he doesn’t get to kiss men? Maybe it’s not because he is kissing him, Louis specifically, but because it’s a man at all? The thought feels like a needle boring into his chest, a pinching sort of pain blossoming somewhere inside. 

Although, what if it’s just the way he kisses? Or, even, what if it _is_ because of Louis? What if Harry feels the same strange fluttering in his stomach when Louis looks at him, or if his knees feel weak when they snog? Harry has said things while Louis has been in America that are very ambiguous. Louis has tried not to consider them, but it is getting bewildering. He fucking knows this is something they are going to be forced to talk about, but… not now. Not after the fucking day Harry has had, and not when he already has so much on his plate. First and foremost, Louis is here to help Harry, and be a supportive friend — nothing else. 

“I thought about something before,” he says, voice a bit hoarse, glancing toward the shower. 

“Yeah?” Harry asks, the sound of the shampoo bottle popping open audible. 

“You should post that picture you took the other day, when we were walking through the city.” 

“That’s… actually quite a good idea. You don’t think Jeff would be mad?”

Louis shrugs, staring at his own forlorn reflection, brows knitted in slight distress. “You know better than me. People would definitely know it wasn’t a denial, though.”

“I will, I think,” Harry says, and when Louis gets out of the shower a while later after his turn, and checks his phone, Harry has. 

  
**(AN: original manip credit:xxxx )**

A few hours later they are sitting on a sofa in the hotel bar, a coffee table in glass in front of them where two abandoned beer bottles are standing. It’s dark outside, and rain splatters against the windows behind them, giving the already cosily lit restaurant a softer ambience. 

Somewhere by the bar are the super fans Jeff had mentioned earlier, trying to look casual as they talk amongst themselves, but they keep glancing over at the two of them as expected. Louis doesn’t have the energy to care, because having been awake since dawn and sprinting like and idiot through the nearby park has drained him completely. It’s barely past ten, and he is ready to collapse in bed. 

Both of them are in soft jumpers, hairs newly washed, soft and smelling of shampoo. Louis is leaning back against the edge of the sofa, head hanging back and eyes having trouble staying open. His limbs feel heavy, and on top of it Harry is cuddling into his side, murmuring quietly into his neck. Louis’ arm is wrapped around his waist, fingers knitted in his hoodie. He can feel him breath against himself, ribcage expanding against his side, and his breath landing at the bottom of his throat as he murmurs.

“... then she said that you should come for Christmas. I don’t know what Jay is doing, but Mum would talk to her. She gonna be with Dan’s family?” 

Louis shrugs. He isn’t sure yet, it’s not even September quite yet. Harry has been talking to his mum over the phone for a few hours after they got out of the shower, and she seems to have managed to put his mind onto other things than the imminent matters. Louis supposes he spaces out after those sentences, and Harry’s murmuring turns into a soft background noise as he closes his eyes. The top of Harry’s head brushes his jaw, and he smells like home.

“Lou?” Harry whispers, lips brushing his jaw. He feels his hand pat his chest where he is cuddled to his chest. 

He blinks awake. “Hmm?”

“Were you sleeping?” he wonders, still whispering with soft eyes. 

“Almost,” he hums back, eyes closing again. 

There’s a moment of silence, before Harry whispers, “You should kiss me before you fall asleep.”

Louis doesn’t let himself hesitate despite the small pinch in his chest. He gently lifts his right hand, the one that isn’t already laced around the other boy’s waist, and gently cradles his cheek, tilting his head up. Their lips meet softly in the sweetest kiss. 

It’s one of those kisses they haven’t had. Louis isn’t used to these, not like this. This one is warm, and gentle. He doesn’t think he has had a kiss like this in years. It feels like one of those slow, loving songs that are accompanied by a guitar and a soft melody. 

It last for a few moments, Harry following his slow movements with ease. They fit, like they always do. And… Louis likes this. He does, and it’s real. It’s really, really real. He doesn’t know if he should be startled by that, but the only thing he feels is that horrible pinching in chest that comes with those distressing thoughts from earlier. 

But despite that… moving his lips with Harry’s feels like all those years ago, giving the younger boy his first kiss. It was… it fit. Everything with them always simply just fits. And, suddenly Louis can just feel it. He is everything. Harry is everything. He is all of it. Flowers, grass, and sunbeams, and fuck all.

“I love you so much,” Harry whispers, lips brushing Louis’, and he knows his eyes are still closed, too. “You’re my favourite person. Always.”

Louis swallows. 

_The summertime, and butterflies, all belong to your creation._


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya darlings! First of all I'm gonna apologise for taking ages to update. I spent a long weekend in London which is partly the reason for that, but hey, here it is now. :) Second, I want to thank you all for the amazing comments on the last update. I sat there in awe just reading them and it genuinely warmed my heart so much. You are all so fucking lovely. Hugs xx
> 
> If you want to say hello :):  
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“When have I ever uttered the word ‘confidant’,” Louis moans, making Niall and Liam cackle. He honestly cannot believe this. When they had been in New York City Jeff had said he would put out a non-denial after the photo-op of Harry and Louis leaving for the airport — fabricating sources with non-existent quotes from Louis was decidedly not what he had said. 

“It isn’t that bad,” Liam says, taking a large sip from his red solo cup. “It just makes you two sound very adorable.”

“It sounds nothing like me!” He downs the last of his alcoholic beverage. While the basic content of the citations aren’t farfetched, the wording is entirely off. The fact that millions of people will think he talks like that is absurd. _So_ absurd. 

“Easy,” Niall says, extending a hand to steady him as he stumbles on his own feet. The vodka is getting to his head… perhaps.

“Ni,” he says to him, tucking into his side. “You need to lighten _up_. This is a party. Smile, like Liam. He is smiling.” His eyes flash to Liam, who is staring at him with what is positively not a smile. “Smile,” Louis demands. 

Niall squeezes his waist. “We’re only not smiling because we’re concerned about your state. How are you going to make it until morning without passing out? You said we were gonna ‘party till dawn’.”

Louis squints at him for a long moment. “You are not wrong. You are right. I need more alcohol.”

Liam rolls his eyes, and Louis manages to hear Niall say ‘screw it’ and down his drink, before he gets lost in the crowd of people cramming the living room of Harry’s residence. His knees are wobbly, but the music blasting through the house still makes him want to dance. He sneaks his way in between co-workers and friends of Harry’s, nodding to someone he recognises, giving them a wave. Nearly every person who knows of Harry’s sexuality — which is a fair amount — is here tonight. Industry pals, some celebrity friends, the tour crew, his writing team and producers… all of them. Several of them even flew out from the UK to be here with Harry, and Louis is entirely pleased and impressed all at once. 

Last Louis saw the soon-to-be-out-of-the-closet gay man himself, he was giving an extravagant performance of _I Will Survive_ with a bottle of Jack Daniel’s as microphone. This time when he enters the kitchen, he is met with the sight of five grown men and one woman doing a rendition of _Y.M.C.A_ , the song echoing from the sound system throughout the room.

Louis stops for a second on his way to the station of alcohol, watching Julian Bunetta, Jamie Scott, Harry, Jack, Glenne, and the band’s tour manager Peter dance and make arm gestures with a level of enthusiasm that would be hard to mirror, smiles large on their faces. Someone else is filming, and the people surrounding the six of them are laughing and singing along. 

The entire night has been one homosexual christening, almost. The house is decked out in glitter and bright colours, the Spotify playlist containing gay anthems — and gay anthems only — that have been going on repeat for hours. Harry’s enormous pile of gifts on the kitchen table is a mix of sex toys, alternative clothing, expensive alcohol, and one majorly extravagant art piece gifted from Harry’s music label. They had toasted earlier, all raising their purple vodka drinks and singing _It’s Raining Men_ on top of their lungs. Very memorable, indeed.

Since then, the night has been filled with drinking and talking, some people taking advantage of the swimming pool and adding the thirty bath bombs abandoned in Harry’s bathroom cabinet, making a rainbow lake. Harry had only yelled at Niall for a minute before smacking a kiss on his head and shoving him into it. Louis only took thirty pictures or so. 

Now, at 2 AM, he is sufficiently pissed. The article by _The Depictor_ had been dropped earlier that day, and after getting tipsy and moaning to Jeff and then Niall and Liam about it, he thinks he has finally let it go. At the very least the paparazzi pictures of him hadn’t been entirely unflattering. Harry said he looked delectable. Who even uses that word? Bloody poetry type.

Harry finishes his rendition of _Y.M.C.A_ , bowing and thanking his pals for the outstanding applause. The smile on his face is brilliant, and his eyes are shining with happiness, although, the glassy look in them disclose of the alcohol he has consumed tonight. Louis has yet to stumble upon one sober person tonight. 

He enters the room and fetches a beer from the kitchen counter, for a second glancing out through the windows at the pink balloons outside Harry’s property. He takes a sip, blinking languidly, starting to really feel the booze in his system. His eyelids are getting droopy and his body feels slimy, like honey. He takes another swig, and only a moment later he finds his lower body being pressed into the kitchen drawers, the thick edge of the worktop cutting into his hipbones. He can feel an arm lacing over his upper chest, a hand closing around his opposite shoulder. 

“ _Hi_ ,” Harry breathes into his neck, pushing his body flush against Louis’ and squeezing his shoulder. He can tell he is drunk simply by the tone of voice.

“Hey, openly homosexual person,” he answers, and leans back against him, the back of his head landing in the curve of his neck.

“Hi, demigod,” Harry giggles. He shifts on his feet ever so slightly, his jaw coming to rest against the top of Louis’ head. Louis snorts, reaching a hand up to pat his cheek with two fingers. Harry keeps giggling, and a moment later leans down to suck a fat kiss to the side of his neck. Louis instantly stills, his hand falling down to clutch around Harry’s wrist, eyelids fluttering. His lips don’t remain there for long, but his nose lingers in his hair, breath warm. Louis’ hand tightens on his arm.

“I’ve missed you,” Harry breathes. 

“Me, too,” Louis admits, eyes closing on their own accord. God. “I don’t like sharing your attention.”

Harry smiles into his neck, and again places a little kiss to his skin. “I know…” 

Louis has barely spent any time with him tonight, having let him celebrate with all the people he doesn’t see nearly as often. Despite having spent months with Harry, seeing him every single day, making himself stay away from his side all night is physically paining him. He wants to be there, see him light up as he talks to friends he hasn’t seen in months, watch him smile and hear him laugh… but he is giving him his space. 

He thinks he has become a bit clingy as of late. He is fairly sure kissing him has a lot to do with that. No, scratch that. It has everything to do with it. The last few months have brought them closer, but then New York City happened, and it all quadrupled. He wants to be near him at all times — spending every day with him is not enough. A few hours apart and he is already missing being in his proximity. And it isn’t simply that. It’s wishing to be near him. Smell him. Touch him.

“Are you enjoying your party, mate?” he asks, voice a little hoarse from drinking and smoking tonight.

“Don’t call me, ‘mate’,” Harry groans into his hair. “I’ve had your tongue in my mouth.”

Okay. No need for his skin to turn into flames because of Harry’s explicit wording. 

“So, I can’t call you ‘mate’ anymore because you’ve kissed me on the mouth?” he asks.

“M’not saying you can’t, I’m just saying it’s weird,” he mumbles. His nose rubs against the back of Louis’ head, and he feels him inhale deeply. He keeps his eyes shut, for a second letting himself revel in the feeling of Harry so close, chest pressed to his back. His drunken head is almost shameless in the way he feels when his best mate is near.

“I like weird. You’re weird,” Louis hums. 

“You like me… You love me.”

“You’re such a drunk idiot.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Time to cut Harry’s gay ass cakes!” someone hollers from behind them. Louis looks up to find Niall there, who is grinning as he starts pulling on Louis’ arm. He gives him a look. “What? It’s pink, and has glitter, and Harry’s face on it. How much gayer can it get? It’s literally his coming out party, mate.”

“See,” Harry grins, tugging Louis from Niall and closer to himself. “He calls you ‘mate’. Mates are people who don’t snog on the reg.”

“We don’t snog on the reg,” Louis blushes. It hasn’t even happened since New York. Not for lack of… _God_. So many moments of bashful touches and intense staring — Louis doesn’t know for how much longer he can handle this. Harry’s family arriving tomorrow is a blessing in more ways than one.

“Please, tell me more,” Niall snickers, and gives them a dirty look, beginning to manoeuvre them in the direction of the kitchen table. It seems most of the party guests have entered the big kitchen, and the cakes have been placed on the table, candles lit. 

Niall places Harry in front of the largest cake, his smile filled with excitement. Niall is the one who got the cakes done, and he has been pumped with anticipation all night. Not even being pushed into a bath bomb pool and having to change into some of Harry’s clothes has put a damper on it. 

Harry’s smile is huge, and people start bringing out their phones to immortalise the moment as Niall is about the hand him the cake knife. His dimples are out, and his eyes look so bright and lovely… 

“Okay, okay!” Louis interrupts, taking the knife right from Niall’s hand, twirling it between his fingers. “Before we cut the cake I need to do something.” He puts it down, feeling the eyes and ears he has got on him now. He clears his throat, and shoos Niall away as he takes Harry’s hand, backing him away from the centre of the table, to where Glenne and Liam are huddled. “You stand here,” he murmurs, “by these two. Smile.”

Harry giggles and nods, squeezing his hand before Louis lets go, letting their fingers slide apart. Louis takes a beer from the kitchen table, and once again clears his throat. 

“So,” he says, voice still hoarse and a little loud. “I wasn’t going to do a speech or anything, but now I’m really, really drunk, and I love you, Harry.” 

The crowd laughs, and Harry’s grin is wide, dimples like craters in his cheeks already. Louis takes a swig of his beer. 

“Uhm. So, I wanted to say a few things. I’m Louis, by the way, for those of you who’ve never met me.” He raises his bottle with a small smile before continuing. His body is warm, cheeks gradually turning pinker as the seconds tick away. “So, let’s get to it then… Harry and I grew up from across the street from each other. Today I am so thankful for my mum befriending Anne, because if she hadn’t then she would have never brought me over to see the little wee one year old baby in the house on the other side of the road.” 

He meets his friend’s adoring eyes. 

“When I met Harry, he was little and fascinating, and though I don’t remember it, Harry, I’ve learned from your mum that apparently you liked to hold my hand a lot. And…” He chuckles self-consciously. “H… to this day you still like holding my hand, and I like holding yours. We grew up together, and you’ve been holding my hand for my entire life. You’ve been there through every big step of mine, and I’ve been there for every one of yours.” 

He takes a deep breath, smiling in his direction. 

“And now, I am so happy and so relieved that I get to hold your hand when you get to finally share this part of yourself to the world. You are the best person in my life, and are the best person in the bloody world to me, and not just that, because you’re my _favourite_ as well. I love you, man, and the most massive congratulations to you.” He swallows. Harry should stop staring at him with that much affection lest he actually faints. “Cheers!”

He raises his glass, quickly ending the speech, and the crowd follows his lead, giving him a loud applause as he starts making his way toward his friend. Harry is beaming like never before, eyes so big and round. He meets him halfway, latching his arms around Louis’ shoulders and dragging him into a big embrace. 

“That was the best speech I’ve ever heard. I love you, I _love_ you.”

“Even better than the boys’?” Louis grins into his curls. Harry’s bandmates had held a lengthy and quite teary speech earlier in the night (Louis had not shed any tears — he had chugged a vodka drink instead) that was too beautiful. Now, Louis’ entire chest feels warm as Harry’s soft body folds into him.

“I love you. Bestest,” he grins into Louis’ neck. “You’re my favourite.”

“Let’s see a kiss from the couple!” Niall hollers, and Louis is about to let Harry go and flip him off, but people around them are already starting to cheer, urging them on. Louis isn’t sure how many of the guests tonight are aware of that they aren’t an actual couple, or how many that actually think they are one. Either way, Niall has got them clapping their hands, and the brunet boy that still has got purplish glitter in his hair and on his forehead is grinning gleefully.

“He’s such a dick,” Harry cackles, hugging him tighter. Louis’ arms around his waist are secure, and when Harry’s hands slide up to cup his jaw and his lips meet his, his knees don’t buckle. He doesn’t collapse into a pile of mush, either, but his insides fly and his cheeks colour as he hears the guests whistling. Harry giggles against his mouth and lets him go, smiling as Louis takes a step away, keeping his arm around his waist. 

These kisses are going to be the end of him. Genuinely.

“Alright! Cake! Cake!” Niall announces. “Everybody has to look! Someone film this moment! I’m gonna post this right after Harry comes out. Fuck yes.”

Louis lets Harry go so he can indulge in Niall’s moment of pride, the big cake knife being ceremoniously placed in his hand. Niall demands complete silence as Harry gently cuts through the blue cake. The reason behind his zealous excitement becomes clear as Harry places the first piece onto a white plate, and the obnoxious rainbow layers are revealed. 

Niall is bouncing, marvelling at Harry’s precious grin and the people around him that are cheering. Harry makes a big show of thanking him, and Louis rolls his eyes so hard they almost hurt when Niall proclaims this as the best moment of the night. Niall watches as cake is distributed to each guest that fancies a piece, smiling blissfully with glossy eyes.

Harry finds Louis again an hour later or so, red solo cup in hand and a large grin on his face. Some guests have started to leave, but the music is still on, the pool is still galaxy themed, and there is a weed corner going on in the living room. Harry comes up behind him just like earlier, hooking his arm over his chest and tugging him back against himself. 

“I don’t like when you’re not holding my hand,” he whines softly, but Louis can hear the little smirk in his voice. 

“Very funny, Harold,” he says, reaching back to pinch his waist. Harry squirms, but remains plastered to his back, breathing drunkenly into his neck.

Liam suddenly passes them by in a flash, looking like a man on a mission. “Smile!” he orders them, shoving an iPhone in their faces, before he moves along to find what Louis thinks sounded like ‘Hulion’. He probably meant Julian. 

“Come with me,” Harry whispers in Louis’ ear, leaning slightly away to put his cup on the nearby bookshelf. He tugs on Louis’ arm, hand sliding down until their fingers are properly laced. He backs away toward the staircase, a mischievous look in his eye. 

Louis arches a brow. “What are you up to?”

He sticks his hand into his back pocket, and pulls out one slightly misshapen joint. He wriggles it in front of Louis with a grin, tugging a little harder on his hand. 

“Such a badass, aren’t you?” Louis says, following him up the steps to the second floor. The music is fading somewhat as they stroll down the first hallway, turning into a muffled background noise.

“I’d like to think I’m hot,” Harry says, hand warm around Louis’, “and dangerous.” They reach his large bedroom, stepping inside and heading over to the bed for somewhere to sit. 

“Sweetheart,” Louis says with a smirk. “You are never going to be dangerous.”

“Not even to you?” Harry murmurs, sitting down on the left side of the bed and placing the joint on the nightstand. They haven’t bothered with turning on the lights, and the room is dim, the only light coming from the balcony, colouring patches of the floor. Harry fetches a lighter from the nightstand drawer, putting the joint to his lips and lighting it. A sweet, heavy smell gradually builds around them, Harry exhaling softly into the small space separating them. “You always let me be whomever I want,” he murmurs.

“Do you really want to be dangerous?” He can’t contain himself, and he reaches out to lightly press his fingertips to the boy’s temple. 

Harry smiles up impishly at him, taking another drag. He blinks languidly. “Only dangerous with you. You’re scary.”

Louis stares at him. “ _I’m_ scary? How wasted are you?” He takes the joint from his hand, the other thumb digging into Harry’s cheek where his dimple is hiding. He takes a thick drag, throat tickling with a small cough. He hasn’t done this in far too long.

“Not like that,” Harry chuckles. He extends his hand, reaching toward where Louis is standing in front of him. “You’re the sweetest man I know.” His finger loops in Louis’ trousers, tugging. 

Louis’ heart leaps, but he only swallows, and lets Harry pull him in. As much as Harry makes his brain swim with questions and temporary doses of anxiety, he can’t resist being close to him. It’s selfish, in a way, but if Harry kisses him just to kiss, and not because he is Louis, then why can’t he be selfish, too?

Harry steals the joint from Louis’ fingers, and takes one more drag before he puts it away on the nightstand. “Come.” 

He pulls on his hand, and for a moment he seems almost tentative. Louis can’t deny him anything, and takes a step forward. As soon as he does, Harry inhales, hands sliding up to cup Louis’ face. His fingers are firm, and soon he pulls him down until their noses are touching. He slowly exhales against Louis’ slightly opened mouth. It smells like weed, of course it does, but Louis doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind anything when it comes to Harry. 

When they start hesitantly kissing, it’s Louis who closes the space between their mouths, feeling like something is vibrating from within. He is shaky, but it’s good. Everything is perfect when they are near. All he can feel is Harry’s touches against his skin. The other boy is warm, kissing him with his usual enthusiasm, but it’s not as urged as the hotel room kiss, and neither is it as sweet as the one in the lobby. It’s slow and languid, but it means something more. 

Louis can feel it all over. His skin is ticking with electricity. 

Harry releases him, his eyes glassy and pupils wide and round. He breathes heavily, but keeps his eyes on Louis’ as he reaches for the joint again. He relights it meanwhile Louis is climbing onto the bed beside him, settling against the pillows. Some of the curtains are drawn, and the purple universe created around them is dreamy, perfect. Louis closes his eyes, and doesn’t open them when Harry presses the blunt to his lips. He takes a deep drag, after a moment exhaling toward the lavender sky above them. 

He can feel Harry move by his side, aware of his every move. His mind feels somewhat cloudier, but his body is on high alert still. His skin prickles when two of Harry’s fingers tilt his head to the side, rubbing at his jawline. 

“You’re scary in the best ways,” he whispers. He places an open-mouthed, wet kiss onto his mouth, one that Louis responds to too late, tongue searching for lips that aren’t there anymore. He doesn’t want to open his eyes. Darkness, and Harry’s touches, are good. “I just want to be enough,” he quietly says.

He gets another kiss, Harry’s mouth warm and soft, and a little desperate. His hand on Louis’ jaw moves to the back of his head, knitting in his hair and keeping him close. Louis doesn’t understand what he means, but this is good. Everything feels good. 

“You’re enough,” he exhales, hand reaching for his shirt. _Closer_ , he thinks. 

“You don’t know that,” Harry breathes right back at him. His lips are so close they rub against Louis’ as he speaks.

Louis doesn’t know what he means, but he knows that he wants more. Wants to be closer. “You’re enough. You’re always enough.” 

He pushes at his shoulder until he is pressed into the mattress, Louis following him until he is perched on his elbow, leaning over him with his hand tied in his shirt. He opens his eyes for the first time in minutes, and when he does Harry is staring up with big, round, pretty eyes. 

“I am?” the younger boy whispers. 

His hand is slowly sinking from Louis’ neck, fingers dipping inside the neckline of his shirt, touching the naked skin of his back. Shivers run down Louis’ spine, and he isn’t entirely certain it’s solely from the touch alone. 

He leans down, nose slotting against Harry’s. The boy beneath him is so soft and beautiful. “Yes,” he promises. “Always.”

The kisses are slow. Harry’s lips wrap around Louis’ in the best way, and he can feel his ribcage work as he breathes underneath him. It’s close and lovely, everything lazy and cloudy. Louis keeps his eyes closed, revelling in the feeling of Harry all over him. He marvels at his smell, his touch, his breath, tongue, and lips. All of it. His chest rubbing up against Louis’ as he moves comfortably, hands so light and gentle. 

“Thank you,” Harry whispers against Louis’ raw lips. His breath is warm, smells like alcohol and sweetness. “For tonight.”

“I didn’t even do anything,” Louis murmurs back, upper lip touching Harry’s nose. His fringe is dangling a few centimetres from his face, the end petting Harry’s forehead. His hand finds Louis’, their fingers tangling by the side of his head on the pillow. Louis strokes the top of his hand with his thumb. 

He knows he shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t, because he doesn’t know how his best friend feels about him, and if Louis ends up being the only one of them with feelings then it isn’t going to be easy. But there are still spirits swimming in his blood, and he is a little high, and he loves Harry. Having him near, feeling his warmth and his skin against himself is something entirely out of the ordinary. It’s special. 

Lying with Harry like this is floating on a galaxy far away. Blues, and pinks, purples, and turquoises. Shades of brightness and darkness; glitter. It’s a sense of ease. Harry’s fingertips stroking, gently tracing every feature of Louis’ face as he feels his soft breathing against his lips is easy. Feeling his ribcage expand against his own is simple. 

Harry’s thumb and index finger follow the edge of Louis’ jaw. It’s light enough to make his skin prickle, but all he can feel is heat when he lets his eyes slowly open. Harry’s eyes are still closed, lost in the moment just like him. His nose is tucked against Louis’ own, and his lips are so close he can feel the barest brush of them. His thigh is solid and snug between Louis’, calves fitted around him, but it’d be so easy to gently move it to fit his hips between Harry’s legs. Harry would tie them around him, and there wouldn’t be an inch keeping them apart. 

What is already happening is a lot. They are just here, breathing against each other’s lips. Louis doesn’t remember ever feeling this serene, this peaceful, comfortable, and at complete ease. Trading soft, barely there kisses, letting their lips meet, but not move any further as their fingers tangle and thumb over one another is so intimate. It’s an intimacy so increasingly heated, that everything feels far away, but simultaneously _right there_. 

Harry makes him feel things. He makes him feel things he doesn’t feel with anyone. Louis is aware that he is a little bit high somewhere in the back of his mind, but all he can focus on is Harry, and focusing isn’t that viable. It all melts away each time Harry’s two fingers featherlightly tugs at the tip of his pinkie. There’s only purple galaxies and star speckled skies on his brain when the very end of Harry’s nose ever so slightly nudges his own. Everything is slow, languid, and comfortable. 

Harry exhales a little breathier against him, his free hand pulling Louis in. _So_ comfortable. Intimate. Easy. 

Louis moves closer, nudging the lower halves of their bodies together. Harry’s fist closes around Louis’ index finger, and he exhales onto his kiss-puffy lips. He inches just a tiny bit down, and Harry instantly bucks up, hand closed firmly around Louis’ finger. 

Exhaling shakily, mind somewhere in candyfloss clouds, Louis shifts on top of him, hand slipping into his curls and gripping on. Harry meets him in a kiss, one that is more fervent this time, intense. The sounds for the first time seem loud around them, lips leaving soft noises each time they part. Harry’s inhales echoes in his ears, sending shivers down his back and thrills through his stomach.

Harry tenses up, his breath stuttering when Louis’ hand slips to his waist, but he only holds on tighter around his body. His stomach is warm under Louis’ hand, thumb pressing into the soft skin right by his hipbone. He has always had lovehandles, and he mewls quietly when Louis grabs a firmer hold of his hip and pushes him closer, hand eventually flattening out over the small of his back. 

“Uh,” he breathes against Louis’ mouth, hand slipping down Louis’ back and knitting in his t-shirt. “Lou…”

The door to Harry’s room swings open with a noisy creak. Louis shoots up from Harry and into a sitting position instantly, adrenaline bursting through his veins, heart beating fast. 

“Sorry! Sorry!” Niall says, hurrying past them, hand placed at the side of his head as if to show he isn’t looking or trying to invade their privacy. He dashes into the bathroom, and exits only a few moments later, a green bath bomb in hand. “I only needed this! Continue making love! Love you!”

The door slams shut behind him, and the room is once again dark and silent. The implications of what had been going on only seconds ago start to settle in Louis, and his heart starts racing in heavy beats. However, Harry doesn’t give him space to panic.

“I’m betting the jacuzzi,” he whispers behind him, arms gently lacing around his flat stomach. He places a soft kiss to the side of his neck, all warm, comfy and tired. Louis exhales like a balloon bursts within him. 

The moment is sufficiently over, but Harry is breathing warmly into his neck, arms tied around his waist securely. Strangely, everything is fine when Harry pulls him back down into bed, wrapping a leg around his and snuggling into his shoulder. 

What just occurred was a lot. It was so much, and there wasn’t an ounce of discomfort in place. He wanted more. With Harry. And the problem isn’t that it’s his best mate anymore, it’s that he doesn’t know how Harry feels about him. No matter how much his body suddenly decides to want it, he can’t do that without knowing for sure that what he feels is mutual.

Harry sighs softly, and a puff of air lands in the curve of Louis’ neck. It is pretty much everything he needs to close his eyes, and eventually let sleep tie him in.

  
**(AN: original manip credit:[xxxx](http://stylesraconteur.tumblr.com/post/138484664048/louistomlinson-happy-birthday-to-harrystyles) )**

The following morning Louis wakes to a shrill alarm noise, and Harry’s curls tucked under his jaw. After a long moment of silence and blinking up at a lavender ceiling, he begins to remember, the memories finally coming clear. Everything that happened last night slowly builds into images, and he remembers the touches, sensations, the intimacy. All of it. 

Harry grunts softly, and his breath hits Louis’ skin. He shifts against him, turning his face into Louis’ shoulder. He is still in his clothes from last night, and everything around them smells like alcohol, smoke, and slightly like sweat. Louis swallows, eyes feeling sore as he blinks.

“Can we stay here all day, please?”

Louis lets out a strained chuckle, but winces when something at his temple twinges. “Time’s it?” he whispers. Harry’s body his heavy on his side, but it seems like the other boy has made himself comfortable where he lies. 

Harry throws a hefty limb out, fetching the phone without looking. “Twelve-thirty,” he says gravelly. He clears his throat and leans down against Louis, head resting on his shoulder as he looks at him. Louis stares back, unsure of what to say, unsure of where all of this has brought them. “Hi,” Harry whispers, a small smile playing on his lips. His eyes have formed into crescents, and tired dimples are shaped into his cheeks. He looks happy, content.

“Your family is getting here in, like, forty-five.”

“You smell disgusting,” Harry grins with warmth in his eyes. “I love you.”

Louis blinks. He clears his throat. “I love you, too”

“You should shower,” Harry smirks. 

He rolls his eyes. “I would if you’d stop weighing me down.”

He keeps smiling. “You smell.”

“Fuck you.”

Harry giggles, and bites his bottom lip. His front teeth are dug into his lip, and he looks up at him with such bashful affection. Louis’ skin feels warm, cheeks getting pink as Harry keeps gazing lovingly. 

“I’ll go first,” Louis mutters and starts untangling himself from the duvet, Harry rolling off of him. However, he doesn’t let him go before he reels him in for a kiss on the cheek. “Jeez,” he chuckles when Harry finally lets him out of bed. “Act like you haven’t seen me for a month.”

Harry only smiles, lying back in bed as Louis enters the bedroom. He strips himself of his clothes, getting into the shower to wash off the night before. As he washes his teeth a while later, Harry takes over the shower, and Louis determinedly keeps his eyes on his own reflection in the bathroom mirror. His beard is starting to grow out, but he can’t be bothered to shave. He wonders if Harry’s lips are still feeling raw from the night before. 

When they finally get downstairs, dressed in jeans and t-shirts, the sight that greets them isn’t too pretty. There is obvious evidence of the party. There are abandoned solo cups on every piece of furniture, bottles of alcohol on the kitchen worktop, Harry’s large pile of gifts on the kitchen table, and the fridge is filled with leftover cake. 

Harry grunts at the mess, slinging his arm around Louis. 

“Hey, lads.” They look up to find Liam there, shoving his foot into a shoe. 

“Hey, you’re still here?” Harry says, taking Louis with him as he strolls over. 

Liam scratches his neck, his eyes glassy and red. “Sorry, hope it’s okay I crashed on your sofa, mate.”

“S’fine,” Harry shrugs, arm heavy around Louis, his jaw pressing gently to the top of his head. 

Liam looks at him for a moment, brows arched and eyes sliding down to Louis for just a second. “Everything good?” he asks, and keeps his eyes on Harry, who Louis finds grinning bashfully when he angles his head up, mouth closed, but dimples deep on either side. He nods almost gleefully, and Louis watches for almost a full five seconds before he frees himself from his limbs. 

He turns around, waving a hand above his head. “I need coffee if we’re gonna leave in a bit.”

“Make me one, baby?”

He grumbles, lifting another hand over his head. _Baby._

His phone is waiting on the worktop in the kitchen, where it seems someone awfully thoughtful must have put the charger in. He doesn’t want to know what pictures are currently sitting in his photo album, nor what the waiting text messages from Niall are saying. He starts making coffee instead, picking out two large mugs from the cupboard and searching for milk in the fridge. There is none. 

_**SO soz for interrupting u last night. Just wanted to apologise bc I know youre like super private about those things** _  
_**from what I saw u looked super cute tho haha** _  
_**i promise i only saw some kissing , i looked away u can trust me!!** _  
_**im happy for you louis, so cool that u feel that for h! awesome !! love you mate!!!** _

Louis stares at the messages for a long moment, having finally checked his phone as he waits for the coffee to brew.

He knows he has feelings for Harry. Last night would not have happened if he didn’t. He knows that, but he has no clue of how to deal with it. Firstly, how does one tell their best mate they have feelings for them? Secondly, said best friend might reciprocate the feelings.

He doesn’t even know if it is the time for it to be dealt with anyway. They have an enormously important and busy week ahead. They have paparazzi outings planned into the schedule, Harry’s Big Day on Tuesday, flying to London for the album release on Friday, several events and parties, and more paparazzi. The timing could not be worse. 

Doing this now would be unfathomably unprofessional. Being Harry’s fake boyfriend is a job. To normal people in this industry this is a life and death situation. Fucking this up for him is unthinkable. Each thing this week needs to be executed with perfection. This is no time for such a mark in the history of their friendship. It will change things — how much Louis isn’t certain of at the moment, but change is obviously inevitable. Because Louis will have to tell Harry eventually. He couldn’t _not_ tell him. The question is simply when, and how. 

In the meantime he isn’t sure what he is supposed to do. Being with Harry, kissing him, touching him, is so much. He wants to burst when he feels his mouth on his, and there are flowers growing in the deepest parts of him when he feels Harry’s breath on his skin. He doesn’t know if he can kiss him while he doesn’t know how he feels about him back. Which is entirely unhelpful, because this upcoming week is all about intimacy, and public display of affection. Starting today. 

He answers the texts in a short sentence, telling Niall it’s all good. Harry strolls into the kitchen just as the coffee is finished, Liam presumably having left. Louis fills their mugs, using a striped one and the penis mug. Harry smirks as he puts it in front of him on the kitchen table, Louis rolling his eyes as he sits down. 

Harry hums as he sips, eyes on the phone in his hand as he scrolls what Louis guesses is Instagram or Twitter. His suspicions are confirmed when Harry chuckles. “Did we really play baseball with the apples and my golf clubs last night?”

Louis arches a brow. “How drunk were you? Did you forget?” he asks, and his brain instantly wonders what else he could have forgotten. Does he not remember what they…?

Harry looks at him, something strange in his eyes. “No,” he says softly. “I remember everything.” Louis watches him watch him back for an awkward moment, tenuous bewilderment slowly building somewhere. “By the way, you should tweet me something affectionate today. Jeff said.”

“Right, right.” Louis nods. He uncomfortably looks away from Harry, and fetches his phone from his pocket, tweeting Harry something simple. Harry answers immediately, a small smile on his lips as he types. Louis quickly replies, and puts the phone away, determining it’s probably enough. However, Harry keeps his eyes on his phone for a minute longer.

“Lou,” Harry says after a long moment of silence, slowly looking up from his phone, staring right into his eyes. “I remember _everything_.”

Does he, though? Louis can’t help but question. If Niall knows, and gets it, then Harry should, too, yeah? He is his best friend — he should know better than anyone. He would say something if he remembered. Right? Harry would talk to him, and he would ask if this is something more than friends kissing for practice, or appearance’ sake. But he hasn’t asked, and he hasn’t said anything yet. 

Louis clears his throat, and just then the alarm system goes off. Harry’s family are here, and Louis doesn’t think he has ever related as much with the phrase ‘saved by the bell’. 

Harry squeals happily, and instantly runs to the hall, turning off the alarm and unlocking the door. Louis can see him from the kitchen windows running down the walkway to meet his family at the gates. He takes a slow moment to brace himself for the day — a papped brunch with the family — and then finally stands from the table to greet the Styles-Twists. 

Anne’s hair is the first he sees of them. It’s in a large, dark brown bun on top of her head. She is wearing a blue jumper and blue jeans, sandals on her feet, trudging with a bag over her shoulder. She lights up when she catches eye of Louis up the stoned path, and he instantly jogs down to give her a large hug and take her duffel. She embraces him, holding on tightly for several long moments. 

“Louis,” she sighs into his shoulder. “So good to see you, lovely. How are you?”

“I’m perfect, Anne,” he grins, although he is sure she can see the red tinge to his eyes. “How was the flight?” Somewhere behind her Gemma is commenting on the balloons adorning the front of the house. 

“It was fine, thank you, darling. Harry had treated us to first class, the little munchkin. I told him not to.”

Louis smiles. “He’s just happy you’re here.”

They don’t have much luggage, considering they’re only staying for a few days until they are travelling back to London for album promo. They’re here for the paparazzi outings and moral support, the latter of which is probably going to be needed. Though the party and the celebrations have for the moment eased Harry’s mind, Louis doesn’t doubt it is going to be nerve-wrecking. 

He gives Robin and Gemma their greeting hugs, grinning as Gemma instantly teases him about his hung over appearance. They take in the state of the house as they enter, arching some brows. Robin chuckles at the glittery garlands, and Anne tsks at the remnants of alcohol in most corners. 

“The cleaners will fix it while we’re out,” Harry says, running a hand through his hair as he leads everyone to the kitchen. He gives his mum an apologetic smile. “D’you want showers before heading out? Jeff told them we’d be there at two-ish.” 

“Yes, please.” Gemma gives her brother a kiss on the cheek before she takes her bag and heads upstairs. It is obvious she has been here before, seeming to find her way around the house with ease. 

“Coffee?” Louis offers, pointing at the pot on the kitchen worktop. 

“Ah, please,” Robin nods, and Louis fetches a couple more mugs. “Have fun last night then?”

“Brilliant night,” Louis grins. “Don’t look at the pool out back.”

Anne shakes her head with a smile. “What did you do to the pool? Always such a troublemaker, Lou.”

“Wasn’t actually me. This one’s all Niall,” he chuckles. He hands them a cup each, and Harry tucks into his side when he leans against the kitchen island. 

“I’m glad you had a good time, boys. Long week ahead, huh?” She reaches out and squeezes Harry’s arm, fingers linking with his. “How are you feeling, baby?”

Harry looks down at his feet, other hand stroking over Louis’ side. “I feel really, really happy, actually.”

Anne’s smile is the brightest Louis has seen on her in a long time, and when she directs it at him as if it is all his doing something thick forms in his throat. 

They get going once Gemma is ready. Her hair is still damp, and there is a pair of sunglasses tucked into it. She wraps her arm around Louis as they head down the walkway to where the car picking them up is waiting, and it is almost eerie how similar to Harry the gesture is. Anne raised her children right; they all love him. Luckily, he absolutely adores them right back.

The drive isn’t too far, the area where the restaurant is situated fairly private. The restaurant itself is rather quaint. It’s not too large, but pretty, and Louis thinks it’s known for having celebrities frequenting the place. They sit down outside at one of the tables in a corner, Louis and Harry on the comfortable, padded bench by the wall of the brick house, the rest of the family spreading out around them. The place is charming and elegant, flowers and greenery mixed in with wooden furniture, and dark green sunshades protecting the tables farther from the building from the Californian sun. 

They order a large brunch, containing coffee, pancakes, yoghurt, Full English, juice, and fruit. Louis eats like he has been starved for a week, and Harry downs coffee after coffee. Gemma looks tired from the flight, but everyone seems in a bright mood despite the fatigue — and paparazzi — plaguing them. 

There are two photographers outside the perimeters, and there is a couple at a table nearby eying them with fair interest. Harry is sitting close to Louis’ side, not afraid to touch his arm and lean in notably close to murmur something. He steals food from Louis’ plate as per usual, and for once Louis can’t be arsed to fight him on it. He lets him sneak from his plate, sip from his glass of apple juice, and take his last strawberry. Harry smiles at him sheepishly with red-stained lips.

The sun is warm for September. It’s Los Angeles, of course, but Louis still angles his chin up toward the sky, closing his eyes for a moment. He hears Robin sipping from his black coffee, and Anne and Gemma’s chatter around him, but it’s hard to focus when his eyes are droopy and his mind still feels fuzzy with distracting thoughts.

“Y’alright, Lou?” Harry asks in a soft murmur, words only audible to him. It only takes a moment of silence before Louis feels Harry’s chin land on his shoulder and his arms tying around his torso, hands on the plates of his chest. He is soft around him as he hugs him close, and Louis has to stop himself from humming as he tentatively welcomes the embrace. 

He clears his throat, opening his eyes and nodding. “Yeah, fine, pup. Just tired from the party.”

Harry nods, and moves to keep his face against the back of Louis’ shoulder. He feels the kiss he presses to his back through the t-shirt, and allows himself to reach up to touch the hand currently pressed to his chest. Harry is wearing a silver ring with turquoise stones in, and he lets his finger smooth over it, remembering how it felt when Harry played with his fingers only hours ago.

“You two look like you didn’t sleep a minute last night,” Anne says, shaking her head with a tiny smile. “Did the party really last that long?”

Harry nods, cheek against Louis’ back, arms tightening. “Didn’t sleep until five, I don’t think.”

Louis pets his knuckles. 

“I’m surprised the house wasn’t in a worse condition.” Robin chuckles in his rich laugh, and Louis can’t help but smirk along with him. 

“Did you fancy the decoration theme then? I think we can still save some of it.” Louis leans back against Harry completely. “We can still call the cleaners, can’t we, love?”

“Sure, we can. Although, I am starting to believe you’re the one who wants to keep it,” Harry hums with a smile, starting to stroke Louis’ chest with his free fingers, rubbing at the spot over his heart. 

Louis is aware there are photographers snapping away at them, it was the point of the brunch, really, but nothing of this feels forced. Nothing about Harry’s touches feel out of the ordinary, and there is not one thing that he doesn’t think they could actually do in a normal setting. It’s bewildering. He loves Harry, but he doesn’t know if the reason why this is all so easy is because Harry loves him back. Are they _really_ just that good mates? Or has there always been something more under the surface, simply waiting to be awakened?

Louis feels Harry’s head shift against his back, his body straightening up slightly behind him. One of his hands leave Louis’ chest as he moves to take a sip from his coffee, but the other stays locked around him under Louis’ own hand. Moist lips leave a soft kiss on Louis’ neck, and he is enormously grateful for the aviators he is wearing, lest the paparazzi immortalised the surprise in his eyes. _More, more, more_ , his body screams, while his head analyses the current moment over and over on top speed. _It’s for the paps. Don’t get all fidgety — again, please. Simmer, jackass. Shit._

His body has already pressed closer to Harry’s, and by the time he has chastised himself for moving nearer, Harry is already planting another kiss onto the spot behind his ear. 

“Maybe not reveal all of it yet, yeah?” he hums quietly. Don’t bloody kill him before the stunt is even over. Come on, pal.

Harry hears him, but doesn’t move a fraction. “So, lasagna tonight, yeah? Mum?”

Anne nods, hair long dark hair swaying. “Of course. And we brought Scrabble, naturally, as requested.”

“Dibs on _not_ teaming up with Louis,” Gemma announces, and everyone starts laughing on his expense. 

“Ha-ha.” He gives a faux smile. “Hilarious, the lot of you.”

“Fine, the oldest men versus the girls and Harry then,” Robin suggests, and Louis gives Gemma a winning smile. Robin is the _best_ at Scrabble. 

“Oh, fuck off,” she says, making a face at him, and he laughs as he tosses a sugar packet at her. Harry giggles and cuddles into Louis side, and he remains there for the rest of the brunch. 

They spend another half hour at the restaurant, talking lazily and finishing the remainder of their food. Louis leaves his arm on the table, palm up, and he is certain the cameras catch the way Harry runs his fingers over his forearm, back and forth until Louis can’t take the featherlight touch anymore, and grips his thumb the next time he nears his palm. Harry leaves his hand in his after that. 

When it’s time to leave, Harry and Louis walk out first. They are meant to look intimate, like a couple. It’s the last photo-op that will be released to the public before Harry comes out, and PR wanted to clue the fans in shortly beforehand. The stroll toward the car is forty metres or so, and Harry is already close to Louis’ side as they exit the restaurant. Louis can see people around them sending them long looks, obviously recognising Harry, and perhaps even him. 

Louis keeps his hand at the small of Harry’s back, Harry’s own fingers touching the side of his chest softly. It’s supposed to be romantic, but he isn’t sure if this is enough. They don’t have time for another one of these, and if PR aren’t satisfied they might have to go out tonight again. 

So, be romantic. Everyone knows that Louis is demisexual now, which means he doesn’t like being sexual with people unless he has a deep connection to them. Which… people are supposed to believe he has with Harry. So, be romantic. Sexy. He inhales in a quiet, long breath, and without giving Harry a warning he lowers his hand from the bottom of his spine into the back pocket of his jeans. 

Harry almost jumps, but experienced as he is he angles closer to Louis, managing to keep his surprise inconspicuous. His hand tightens in the front of Louis’ t-shirt as he leans in, searching for more contact as they slowly walk. He folds into Louis, moving with him like a tree branch conforms to the wind, pliant and easy. It feels like something doing somersaults within him, having Harry this close. Touching him like this does far from bother him, and again it only proves how much he cares about him.

He gives his small, round bum another proper squeeze, trying it out, and he can see how Harry’s cheeks flame, and it’s _pretty_. His body is peachy and comfy, and Louis has to school his expression into something unbothered, because this bothers him in the exact opposite way of how discomfort feels. 

“Stop,” Harry giggles, pressing his chest to Louis’ side as they walk. “I’m gonna look ridiculous in these pictures.”

“You already look ridiculous,” Louis murmurs into his jaw, giving him another squeeze. The car isn’t too far away now, but the paps are still snapping their cameras. Louis can feel the muscles work as Harry walks, and he strokes his bum over the material in the pocket, keeping the other boy pressed to his side. Harry releases another laugh, practically plastered to him and barely glancing where he is walking. He trusts Louis completely, too engaged in what is happening to bother with getting to the vehicle. Louis is certain knowing this isn’t good for his heart. 

They reach the car eventually — all thanks to Louis — and spend way too long getting into it. They wait outside for Harry’s family to catch up, which is in reality entirely unnecessary. Louis keeps his hand in Harry’s pocket as the boy turns to stand in front of him, placing his wrists on Louis’ shoulders, hands tangling in the hair at his nape. 

“You’re touching me inappropriately…” Harry grins, leaning in to press his hips directly against Louis’. Louis rolls his eyes despite the thrill shooting through his tummy, and slides his second hand into Harry’s other back pocket. Harry jumps slightly, squirming against him. Louis’ heartbeat picks up several paces. 

“Stop moving your giant cock against mine.” He can barely believe his own ears. _Shut your mouth, Tomlinson? For once?!_

Harry stutters out a laugh, one that goes straight to Louis’ groin. He looks at him for a short moment, however, as though he is trying to read him. It only adds to it when he gently pushes Louis’ aviators off his nose and tucks them into the neckline of his shirt instead. He touches his fringe and temple with light fingers for a quick moment, almost unsettling eyes penetrating Louis’ with a searching frown.

Is Louis obvious? Did Harry remember after all? Dear.

“Oh, that’s romantic,” he says, “just gonna stare into my eyes like a proper lovesick fool, eh?” He lifts a hand to pinch his waist, the other still in Harry’s backpocket, keeping him close. 

Harry squawks, writhing against him. “You want to play it that way, huh?” he says, squinting. Louis knows that look, and when Harry leans in to drag his teeth against the shell of Louis’ ear he shouldn’t be surprised, but he undoubtedly is. Harry’s hands tighten in his hair, tugging firmly as his nose dips into his hair by his ear. 

Fortunately the touch is hidden behind Louis’ head, the angle only allowing the paps the view of their profiles from the other side. Louis keeps his hands on Harry’s arse as the boy nibbles on his earlobe, sucking a smaller kiss to the spot just beneath. It’s a genuine miracle Louis is still breathing, because his heart is beating at lightning speed and he is sure he looks like he is going to pass out. 

It’s good. It’s too good, is the thing. Everything with Harry is suddenly too good and comfortable. With his best friend’s body pressed up to his own like this he doesn’t feel anything other than flying nerves and desires for more of it. 

Harry’s lips suck another kiss to the spot under his jaw, and Louis is so lost in the feeling that it takes him a moment to remember the paparazzi watching them. Someone might even be filming. He wonders if Harry knows exactly how much he is affecting him. 

“Is that all you’ve got, mate?” the stupid part of him that must keep how he feels under the radar for now says — the part of him that has also got no self-preservation at fucking all. How is saying that supposed to _help_?

Harry lowers his head slightly, but it takes him a moment to speak. He nuzzles into Louis’ neck, resting his head on his shoulder. “I think I stopped playing,” he hums.

“Don’t overdo it, lads.” Gemma reaches them just then, saving Louis from melting into a puddle of goo adorned with floating question marks on top. She comes with Robin and Anne in tow, but they give them a bit of space. “You look like you’re having way too much fun,” she snorts.

“Shut up, Gems,” Harry quietly growls, exhaling against Louis’ skin and making him shiver despite the warm sun. Louis takes a deep breath, and decides it’s enough. This is enough. They need to stop before everything gets far too much. 

He lets Harry go, but keeps a hand on his waist as he reaches out to open the car door. He carefully guides Harry in, letting Gemma enter after him before he following inside. Harry grins at him from across Gemma, and Louis tries so hard to ignore the way he feels when his best friend directs those adoring eyes in his direction.

♡

Waking up on Monday morning, Louis is in the bedroom Harry had given him when he arrived in L.A. Having decided to go to sleep early last night while the rest were still up, he had gone back to his own room, feeling awkward about presumptuously heading into Harry’s. With his family here he couldn’t help but remember how strange Lottie had found it that they share beds, and he didn’t want any of them finding him in there if Harry weren’t with him.

Feeling self-conscious about all of this is beginning to mess him with. Since New York he has found himself questioning a lot of the norms within their friendship. It is established that he certainly does love Harry as more than a friend, but the first thing he wakes up thinking about is wondering if Harry loves him, too. He wonders what it would be like, what kind of couple they would be. What would happen when Harry inevitably goes on tour? Would Louis come out to see him? Would Harry come live in London more permanently when he isn’t working? 

All those things are already spinning in his head. He doesn’t know yet if Harry feels that way about him, but even if he doesn’t, Louis isn’t sure he could go back to seeing Harry a handful times a year when he has been spending the last three months in his back pocket. He couldn’t handle missing him. Especially not now. Not now with everything they’ve shared so far. 

He takes a shower, mind undoubtedly wandering to Harry as he stands under the spray. They’re heading out on the sea today with the family, on a yacht someone has rented for them so PR can have another folder of high quality pictures of them. It will be sun, swimming, tanning, and half-naked Harry all day, including lots and lots of cuddles. The pictures are for after Harry’s Big Day, to show precisely how loved up they are, and how close Louis is to their family. To be honest, they don’t even need to try. Louis could just post that one picture of Gemma from her Sweet 16 and they would be good to go. Hell, he might post that anyway.

A whole day with being close to Harry. 

The other boy had taken the liberty of packing for the both of them the previous night, telling Louis to let him take care of it. He had planted a small kiss onto his eyebrow, which had made him unnaturally squirmy. All the touches when they aren’t _supposed_ to happen are messing with his heart. Imagining the scenario where Harry doesn’t love him back makes his insides hurt. He tries so hard not to think about it.

The pictures of the brunch had been released later in the same day. Harry had not wanted to read the comments on social media, but Louis had a quick scroll before falling asleep. It seemed mostly positive, or at the very least mostly _not negative_. In hindsight it felt like a rather crucial moment regarding the public perception. It’s currently looking positive, but Louis is sure Jeff will call with an update later today when the pictures have reached each corner of the world. 

It’s still early when Louis finally makes his way downstairs. Harry’s family are all waiting for him around the table, giving him amiable hello’s and smiles. Harry looks up with a tentative smile, gesturing for him to sit down by his side. Louis slowly sits in the chair next to him, mumbling out a low thank you to Robin who pours him a mug of coffee.

“Missed you last night…” Harry hums quietly into the side of his face, looking at him with a small frown. 

“Sorry,” is what Louis can muster up, squeezing Harry’s thigh under the table. Before he can remove it, Harry’s hand lands on top of it, fingers hugging his. He doesn’t let go, either, and Louis’ palm remains against his upper thigh, the warmth spreading through his body one hundred per cent not a result of the coffee. 

“S’okay,” Harry murmurs against his ear. “Got all day with you.”

Certainly. All day of this. 

A big, black escalade picks them at nine, and drives them out to the harbour where the large yacht is waiting for them. The wind plays with the extra large, flowery shirt Harry is wearing as he takes Louis’ hand while they stroll onto the boat, fingers fitting in between his. The sun is already beaming from the clear blue sky, a pretty day surely upon them. 

Harry seems to be a good mood, no nerves of the coming day showing so far. Louis keeps his hand in his as they greet the captain and the employees, making pleasant conversation and joking around. They are shown to their room for the day, that is more like a proper, large bedroom than a cabin on a normal boat. Louis shrugs off the displeased look one of the female employees gives him when he gets a kiss pressed to his shoulder from Harry. She seems like a bitch, anyway. 

When they are alone at last, Harry places the bag with their clothes on top of the bed. He kicks his shoes off, starting to pick through the leather duffle that is presumably some expensive brand. Harry clears his throat nonchalantly, running a hand through his long curls that Louis is highly aware of smells like apples today. 

“So, uhm, do you think Elliott has seen everything?” Harry asks quietly as he picks out a pair of swimming trunks. “That you’re with me, I mean?”

Louis glances up at him from his side, taking over the space by the bag as Harry steps back, beginning to rid himself of his clothes. “Probably.”

Harry doesn’t say anything for a bit, but takes his shirt off and shoves his boxers down his thighs. “…have you spoken to him recently?”

He shrugs, looking away from Harry’s bare arse. “Nope.”

“So, he thinks we’re really together? Like, would he get that it’s just… for show?”

Louis looks up again, frowning. “Why do you care about Elliott, Harry?”

Harry snorts, shoving his jeans into the bag. “I don’t.”

“Why were you asking then? And no, I don’t think he would, is the answer to your question.”

Harry shrugs, aloof and weird. “Whatever. Cool.”

Louis watches him with slightly squinted eyes. “Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not weird.”

“Yes, you are.”

Harry rolls his eyes dramatically. “I don’t give a fuck about Elliott, okay?”

“You actually do seem to give a fuck.” He is actually starting to take offence to his strange behaviour.

“Shut up,” he mutters quietly, obviously wanting him to drop it. 

Louis arches his brows. “Shut up? Are you serious?”

Harry sighs. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Then why’d you say it? You’re being weird. And rude.”

“Can we talk about something else?” he pleads, covering his face with his hand for a short moment.

“No,” Louis says. “You’re the one who brought it up.”

“Well,” he responds in frustration. “We always talk about everything. We’re supposed to communicate, right? _You_ made it weird.”

“I didn’t make this weird. You made it weird.”

“I was just curious,” Harry sighs, turning to finally face him completely again. His arms look tanned by the L.A. sun, chest and tummy somewhat paler. He stands in front of him in his tiny, blue swimming shorts, arms dropping to wrap around his kitten tummy. 

Louis releases a small breath, shoulders relaxing as he sits down on the edge of the bed. “Why didn’t you just say that then? I want to talk to you about everything, too.”

Harry takes a few steps toward him, coming to stop by his knees. He gives him an apologetic smile, hand reaching for his. Louis meets him halfway, letting their tangled fingers land on his thigh. “I’m sorry,” Harry murmurs. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

Louis shakes his head. “I hate fighting with you,” he whispers, looking up at him with a little pout he normally never wears. 

Harry leans down slightly, his free hand softly touching Louis’ jaw, tilting his head up just a bit. Louis swallows as Harry’s hand turns firmer around him, eyes sliding down to his lips and lingering there. Part of him aches for it, and part of him aches in a completely different sort of way. 

A soft, but solid and firm kiss is pressed onto his lips. Harry’s lips are puffy and plump as usual, and they fit with Louis’ perfectly. Everything tangles in his brain, thoughts criss-crossing, meanwhile the butterflies in his tummy flutter their wings, and leap all the way up his chest. It’s so much at the same time. _Too_ much. 

Louis releases Harry’s hand, and gently places his palms on the plates of Harry’s chest. He gives some pressure, and Harry takes a small step back, their lips parting with a little noise. He frowns down at him, and it only deepens when he sees Louis’ facial expression.

“Can we…” he whispers, heart beating like drum, hard, fast, and uncomfortable. He swallows thickly, voice wavering. “Harry, can we… can we only kiss when we have to? When Jeff says so.”

Harry blinks, confusion instantly filling his eyes. “Wha — what?” Louis nods slowly, throat burning. “In New York you said…?”

“I think it’s for the best,” he whispers. 

“But — I mean, I thought…” Harry stutters. “The party, our night —”

“I’d just be more comfortable with that.” He looks down at his feet, hands falling off Harry’s chest as the boy takes another step back, out of reach.

Harry stares at him. “You’re… you’re _uncomfortable_ with kissing me?” The hurt is so, so clear in both voice and eyes, and Louis wishes he could take it back or explain it better, but he can’t without telling him how he feels for him.

“Harry…” 

“But you said you liked it?” he whispers, something looking dangerously close to despair hiding in plain sight in his eyes.

Shit. “H, it’s not that. It’s got nothing to do with that.”

“Did you lie?” he asks, offence and hurt mixing into one in his gravelly, suddenly thick voice.

“Harry, no. It isn’t _that_.” He inhales shakily. “I’d just… prefer if we didn’t.”

Harry’s eyes bore into Louis’, brows knitting into something that almost resembles anger now. The confusion and hurt is still evidently there. “You kissed _me_ in New York. And the other night.”

“H, it’s…”

“Then why? If you haven’t just been doing it all this time to make me feel better while you’ve been completely repulsed, then what is wrong now? Did I do something?”

“No, you haven’t done anything!”

“Then what?!” he yells. “If you can’t explain it then I don’t get it. I can’t fucking stand that you pretended to like something that is physically revolting to you while I’ve been thinking you do, and neither can I look at you right now and think that you’re lying because I fucking know you!” He turns around, fists knitting in his hair. He lets out a frustrated groan, and something coils in Louis’ stomach.

“H, I love you,” he begs. “I have not been lying. It’s not about that. I promise you.”

Harry spins back around, and his red-rimmed eyes burn into Louis’, making his breath catch. His voice is low, but icy and biting. “Then I think you should stop being such a cunt, and take your clothes off.”

He shoves Louis’ bathing shorts into his arms and storms out of the room, the door slowly falling shut behind him. Louis is left sitting on the bed, eyes round and wide in shock, mouth hanging ajar. The shorts are sitting in his lap, but he can’t bring himself to move. 

He doesn’t know how he expected this to go. Now, in hindsight, he realises he should have understood that Harry would be upset. The thing about Louis’ sexuality is that Harry knows how awful Louis feels when he is uncomfortable with a situation. Louis didn’t have a proper excuse to come with, and of course Harry wasn’t having it. 

The image of Harry’s glassy, green eyes has etched itself onto his retina. He can’t unsee it. The hurt in his voice and eyes is making him more anxious than his feelings for Harry have ever done. How did he expect that to go smoothly? He only wanted to save himself from the anxiety the constant wondering brings him, but now he isn’t sure it was the right thing to do. 

He rubs at his eyes, groaning pathetically. The confusion and hurt that must be tearing at Harry right now makes his chest burn. He doesn’t want him to think he has been disgusted by him, or hasn’t enjoyed any of it, because it is the extreme opposite of that. He is in bloody love with him. Jesus, how the fuck did he just say that to Harry? 

But the other boy must know deep down that he isn’t uncomfortable with him, right? He must. If he remembers everything from Saturday night then he should know. _Isn’t it so?_ he thinks desperately.

Fucking shite. All of this. He swore he wouldn’t fuck this week up for Harry, and now he has gone and done it anyway. Fantastic. 

“Fuck,” he growls, kicking his shoes off. He tears his t-shirt away, shoving the trousers down his legs and quickly slips into his swimming shorts instead. It’s a pair Harry has bought for him, blue with red little turtles on. He can’t take how fucking endearing that is. He thrusts a pair of aviators onto his nose, and leaves the room. 

He forces away the hard knot in his throat as he makes his way down the hallway, eventually finding his way out on deck. It seems the boat has come to a stop some hundred metres from the shore, now bobbing on the surface of the blue ocean. He finds Harry already lounged on a sunbed, only shoulders and head against the backrest. His sunglasses are on, hiding his eyes, but the sour expression on the rest of his face is clear. 

The family is dozing under the sun as well, Robin reading, Gemma with headphones in her ears, and Anne possibly doing a crossword. The day is all about this, being comfortable and hanging out in front of the paparazzi. They are probably already taking photos when Louis tentatively makes his way over to Harry’s sunbed. He places a knee on the edge, and touches Harry’s chest, palm flat and unwavering. 

“Hi,” he hums quietly, voice tentative.

Harry immediately scoots over, giving Louis space to fit in behind him on the chair. Louis sits down first and shimmies until he is down on his side, arm wrapping around Harry’s chest as the other boy leans back against his body, resting slightly on top of him as they lie back. Louis can feel him breathe against him, the top of his hair brushing his chin.

“Harry…” he whispers, stroking his side with his free arm.

“Don’t do that. Don’t touch me. Just don’t.”

He swallows. “Love.”

“Stop. Don’t call me that, and I don’t want to fucking talk to you.”

“Come on, Harry. Please, let me explain better.”

“I’d rather not. Shut up, and goodnight.” His hand clamps around Louis’ wrist, squeezing as if to emphasise his words. All Louis can do his snuggle as close as possible, pulling Harry to his chest. He only gets elbowed a little. 

The morning is spent dozing in the sun. Harry stays lying against Louis as he knows they are meant to be pictured together during the day, but it’s obvious he is angry and upset with him. Louis wants to rewind an hour, and wishes so badly he had just kept kissing him, because that would have been better. Kissing Harry and wondering if he loves him back is better than the anxiety of having him not speaking to him. It’s not the kisses that are the problem — it’s the implications of his feelings that make it hard. 

The day is miserable. Harry’s family notice something is wrong, as much is clear, but they don’t comment or try to figure out what. Harry does what Jeff wanted. He holds Louis’ hand as they go for a swim, he lies with him in the sun, and he even joins kicking some footie on the deck with him and Gemma. He doesn’t talk to Louis. He doesn’t even breach on a slightly intimate touch, and Louis is left trying to make them look like a romantic couple alone. 

Harry’s shoulder is stiff when he lays a kiss there as they are lounging on one of the sunbeds again. His skin is warmed by the sun, starting to gain some colour, too. Louis gives the back of his neck another peck. Everything aches. 

“Stop doing that,” Harry says. 

“Harry,” Louis sighs. “The damn paps are here.”

“I don’t want you to touch me when you secretly hate it.”

Louis groans. “I don’t hate it! Everything came out wrong, Harry.”

“Well, I heard you loud and clear.” His hand suddenly reaches out to grab Louis’, grip hard and uncomfortable. “Stop touching me.”

“Do you want to look like you hate me in these pics, or what?”

Harry turns over, voice bitter. “I don’t give a fuck about paparazzi pictures, Lou. All I care about is you, so why don’t you start touching me when you actually want to.”

He turns back around, and Louis slumps back against the backrest in frustration. 

“It’s not like that,” he whispers. 

“Then what is it like?”

Louis swallows. 

Harry shakes his head in disbelief, and his voice once again sounds all too thick. “Go fuck yourself.” He stands from the sunbed, Louis’ hands falling off him. He pushes his shades off his nose, and Louis gets a second of seeing tears pooling in his eyes. 

“Haz!” he calls, desperation tangling around his voice. 

“Don’t follow me, or I swear to god,” he grunts, and disappears down the stairs at the beginning of the deck. 

Louis is left by himself, anxiety once again stirring in his stomach. He didn’t mean to hurt him like this. He didn’t mean to make him feel this way. He didn’t mean to fuck everything up. How is any of this okay? Harry with tears in his eyes is not okay, and certainly not when Louis is the reason behind it. 

But he doesn’t know how to fix it. He always fixes everything. He is the person Harry relies on, and now at the one time it really matters he can’t come up with a solution. 

Harry doesn’t come out on the deck for the rest of the afternoon. They leave the yacht at six. Gemma’s skin is reddening, Harry’s parents look tired, and Harry is hiding under a hoodie and shades, not having bothered to switch out of his swimming shorts. He holds Louis’ hand with minimal enthusiasm (none), and Louis tries not to show how much he is aching to just hug him close and tell him how much he fucking loves him. He never wanted to hurt him. Not his Harry.

They eat lasagna leftovers for dinner. The awkward silence between Harry and Louis is obvious around the table, and when Harry excuses himself to go up to his room without a word all questioning eyes fall on Louis. He pokes at his food, and doesn’t say anything. 

He goes to bed early. He slips past Anne and Robin in the kitchen after silently watching TV with Gemma, and heads upstairs. His legs ache stop outside Harry’s room, and he stands there for a long moment, wondering if he should go in there or not. He needs to make this okay. He can’t let him feel like this. 

He gently pushes the door open. The room is dim, lamps off, and the drapes around Harry’s bed are closed. It’s completely silent, not a breath to be heard. He tiptoes to the side of Harry’s bed, gently pulling the drapes aside. 

Harry is sleeping. His cheek is pressed to his pillow, hair splayed out behind him in curly, frizzy locks. He looks soft and sweet. Louis stands there for a long moment, watching like a fucking creep. He should go. Harry is angry with him, and he wouldn’t want him here like this. 

He inhales, sighing pathetically. 

“Night, love,” he whispers. He closes the drapes, and slinks out of the room.

The morning after the horrendous day of the yacht, Louis wakes up to at least forty text messages from friends. He blinks at the uncomfortably white and not purple ceiling above him, wincing as the device buzzes against the wooden nightstand. 

“Fucker,” he grunts at the first text message, one from Stan that is just consisting heart emojis. He doesn’t see why he should be woken up at this hour when his life suddenly feels like a complete wreck. 

Then he notices the large number of other messages waiting in his inbox. He starts reading, and his heartbeat instantly picks up as he understands what must have happened.

_**Didn't know you and Harry finally got to it!! Thought it was only papers gibberish! Congrats lad!** _

_**Always knew u 2 belonged together x** _

_**Hahahahahahaha CONGRATS give Harry my happy wishes** _

_**The fuck man!! U and Harry were always gonna be together I knew it** _

_**Awwww! Can’t believe you didn’t tell!! Always thought there was something special between you <3 ** _

_**Tbh I could tell Harry was in love w u when u were with Elliott but I'm glad he finally got the balls to do smhtn about it, congrats x** _

_**You two are so fucking adorable. True love** _

_**He loves you so much!!!! You’re the luckiest in the world ! #jealous** _

By the third message he is sitting straight up in bed, frantically scrolling through text after text. His fingers are shaking as he makes his way out of the message app, logging onto Twitter instead. His heart pounds all the way up in his throat, stomach queasy with nerves. He feels almost sick, in a nervous sort of way, when he sees the top trending topics. Harry. Harry, Harry, Harry. Harry everywhere. 

_He is gay._

It’s the first thing he reads as he taps on the first trend. It’s official. Harry Styles came out. There are pictures at the top of the page, screencaps of some video that Louis hasn’t seen, didn’t even know about. There are links everywhere, and he hysterically taps one of them, instantly being redirected to the YouTube app. As it loads, Louis notes how many views the video already has, posted half an hour ago. _Hi there_ reads the title. 

The screen suddenly fills with purple — Harry’s purple. Harry’s lavender coloured duvet. Louis knows how it smells, and he suddenly aches to be there in his bedroom, sleeping next to him. There’s a rustle of the duvet when the camera is brought up, and it takes a few seconds before it focuses on the boy sitting before the lens.

Harry. 

His face is tired and puffy, but there is something inexplicably bright in his eyes. He is sitting with his legs pulled up to his chest, blanket covering half his naked chest, shoulders bare and pale against the lavender coloured sheets around him. The sun is streaming into the purple cocoon, highlighting parts of Harry’s body, his brown tousled hair, and the side of his face. He looks content, calm.

He inhales deeply, running a hand through his curls, ruffling them even though they already are a mess. “Hi, there,” he says softly, voice tinged with sleep, gruff and gravelly like Louis is used to each morning. He says nothing for a moment, just staring into the lens with a sleepy squint to his eyes. He swallows, looking down at his knees for a short moment before he faces up again.

“It’s me, Harry. Uhm. There is something I kind of wanted to talk to you about. I don’t really know just how to go about it, but I just woke up this morning, and I felt really happy.” His front teeth sink into his bottom lip, eyes big and green as he takes another pause. “So I picked up my camera, and… yeah. This isn’t gonna be too long, but, uhm. I wanted to say this, because I feel like I want you to know, and I’ve wanted that for a long time now.”

Harry takes a deep breath, eyes never leaving the lens. Louis’ heart seems to rattle his entire body with each, burning pound.

“I’m gay,” Harry says, and the breath leaves his lungs. Louis’ heart makes a double beat. Harry smiles tentatively, dimples peeking out in his cheeks, looking up bashfully at the camera. “I’m gay,” he repeats, voice slow as he continues. “And I have always been gay.” 

He purses his lips, squinting slightly. 

“My friends and family have known since I was a teenager… but unfortunately sharing that within some industries is still an issue, sometimes not viable at all. I am just very, very happy to finally share this with all of you. I really, really am.” 

He pauses for a short moment, two fingers coming up to thumb at his bottom lip. He stares up into the camera.

“I’m glad to do this, because it means I can be honest with you lot, and I hope that this can help spreading the message that being whoever you are is okay. People can say whatever they want about me, but this is right. This is good. This is _me_. And I want to be me with you, with everyone. I want you to know me for who I am, and I want every one of our fans to feel like they can, too. Because this is just another thing about me. I sincerely hope it’s one that doesn’t mean much to anyone. It’s just a small part of me.”

He looks down at his lap for a moment, hand coming up to run through his curls, again ruffling his already dishevelled hair. He grins, and he looks heart-meltingly adorable. It is a smile that is surely going straight into thousands of people’s hearts in this moment, and Louis is probably not the only one that is feeling breathless.

There is a small sound of something in the background, and Harry’s smile visibly grows. He gives his left a small glance before he faces the lens again. He hesitates for just a moment.

“Uhm, also simply to make it clear, because there has been a lot of talk,” he adds softly, “I _am_ currently in a relationship with a man. Like a lot of people have guessed, my best friend, Louis, to be more specific.” He throws another look to his left, eyes lingering for a long second. He chuckles self-consciously. “He’s sleeping right now, actually, making some little snuffle noises…” he says softly, breathily laughing. 

The camera pans toward the other side of the bed, Harry out of sight. And evidently there Louis is, face hidden in the lavender pillowcase, brown hair sticking up everywhere and arm still stretched toward Harry’s body. 

“He’s probably gonna watch this eventually, so…” Harry whispers in the background. “Hi, Lou.” His index finger gently pokes out to stroke the very shell of his ear. “I love you,” he murmurs. Louis sits there, staring with wide eyes as Harry’s voice sends shivers down his back. “Every day you make me love you more.” Louis watches himself as he subconsciously nuzzles further into the pillow. “All I do,” Harry mumbles. 

_The summertime, and butterflies, all belong to your creation._

“Ahem.” Harry clears his throat, camera now facing him again, Louis out of sight. He is out of sight, but he is sitting there, hands shaking and heart beating, because it’s real. All of it. 

“I love you guys so much, and you’ve done so much for me and the boys. I hope that… I hope this doesn’t change anything.” He gives a small smile. “I don’t quite know how to end this, so I’m just gonna say goodbye. All the love, as always, and I will see you all later.” 

He smiles, and gives a little wave to the lens, and after a short moment the video cuts off.

_I love you. It’s all I do._

Louis drops the phone, and sits staring at the device, breath shaking. He filmed that. Before Louis woke up on Sunday morning, he filmed that. The morning after the party where they were closer than they have ever been. 

Louis didn’t even realise his eyes are pooling with unshed tears until now. He attempts wiping them away, giving out a sniffle, but they just keep flowing. His fingers are nearly shaking as he brings them down to cover the lower half of his face, the tips of his fingers running over his upper lip. 

He is so stupidly in love with this boy, it’s unbelievable. And this boy might love him back. Perhaps.

Fucking —

He stands from the bed and bolts through the hallway, naked feet hard against the floor. He loudly pushes Harry’s door open, bursting through the room. Harry is standing by his dresser, legs in sweats and torso covered in that green hoodie Louis has come to love so much over the summer. He looks up when Louis comes running into the room, eyes wide at the loud noise following him. He opens his arms just a millisecond before Louis crashes into him, wrapping both legs and arms around him. 

He hugs him back. Louis clings like a monkey, pressing him as close as he can get. The tears are swimming over when Harry leans his forehead in the curve of his shoulders, arms tight and desperate around his back. He smells like apples. He smells like Louis’ Harry, and he never wants either of them to feel like this again. Louis’ feet land on the floor, but he stays locked in Harry’s embrace, unwilling to _ever_ let go. 

“So happy for you,” he chokes out, voice quivering, thick with tears. Harry instantly squeezes him closer, sniffling against the curve of Louis’ neck. He can feel his wet tears on his skin.

_I love you._

He knows how to fix everything. All he has got to do is tell him how he feels.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! This is the second to last chapter! Only one more update after this!! :) It's been so fun writing this story, really, and the response has been amazing. I hope this continues to be okay :) xx
> 
> tumblr: [isthatyoularry](http://isthatyoularry.tumblr.com/)  
> twitter: [isthatyoularry](https://twitter.com/isthatyoularry)

Harry’s arm around Louis is warm as usual, if a bit looser than it normally would be. Louis leans down to let his temple rest against his shoulder, arms wrapped softly around his fake boyfriend’s waist. Getting up this morning was particularly hard. Early flight, too many bags, too many people, too much paparazzi, sleeping far too few hours… 

He snuggles further against Harry.

There are fans and paparazzi at the airport, waiting for them to get on their plane to take them back to the UK. Along with the two of them are Harry’s family and Liam, and arriving in a bit is the rest of the band. For safety reasons only Liam is walking with them to their gate, Zayn and Niall on their own until they see one another on the aeroplane. 

Alberto is on Harry’s other side, all of them waiting for clearance to start heading through to the gate. 

“How are you feeling, mate?” Liam asks for the fiftieth time that morning since he arrived, despite his lengthy phone conversations with Harry the previous day after waking up to the news. Harry’s fingers run across Louis’ forearm. 

“Fine,” he sighs. “Everything has been okay so far…” He trails off, and Louis glances up to see him tilting his head in the direction of the door to the room they are waiting in. There is a man there with a laminated card around his neck, waving Alberto and Liam’s bodyguard in for a chat. 

“Are you ready for the event tomorrow? It’s gonna be big.”

Harry sighs, shifting his weight onto his other foot. “Talking about it doesn’t make it easier, does it?”

Liam arches his brows at him, tilting his head to the side. “It might.”

Harry shrugs. He is tired, that much is obvious. The previous day, Tuesday, was intense. The news spread everywhere, and both of their phones kept going off every second. Never mind that their own relationship was in an exhausting enough state, but the business side of things naturally was and still is wearying. Jeff barely gave him a second to breathe yesterday. 

Louis squeezes Harry closer, pursing his lips against him. “So proud of you,” he mumbles into his hoodie, closing his eyes.

Being proud is an understatement. The situation he is in is immense. The boy has millions of eyes on him every day, and though the speculation about his sexuality has been going on for years it is indeed a bombshell reveal to the media. Not only that, but the boy has a highly anticipated music album coming out, and there are lots of pressures from so many people. 

Harry’s arms disappear from around him. 

“Time to go,” Alberto announces, and Louis sees him holding the door up when he finally opens his eyes. “Harry, Louis, stay by me.”

Liam’s bodyguard Paddy heads out with him first, Harry’s family following, and Louis and Harry exit last with Alberto. With their carry on bags thrown over their shoulders, Louis’ hand clutched tightly in Harry’s, they head toward their gate. 

A cluster of noise meets them as they exit the short hallway. Paparazzi instantly crowd with only a few metres of distance around them. It is the first time Harry has been in public since the video was posted, and it is by far the most intense encounter with paps and fans that Louis has ever experienced. After three months of being involved in Harry’s celebrity life, one would think he has gotten used to this. He positively has not. 

The people with cameras are in their faces, shouting and yelling things at them, camera shutters loudly going off around them. Alberto stays put by Harry’s side, keeping him safe while several other security guards employed by the airport help keeping their way clear of fans. Louis tries his best to follow the fast pace everyone is walking, but with everything surrounding them it’s hard to keep up. 

“Harry!” fans yell, holding out iPhones and hands, pleading looks in their eyes as they call for him to stop. There is too much people and chaos for him to do so, but Louis can see how much he wishes he could when the sadness in their eyes appear as he passes them by with apologies. 

“Love you, Harry!” they yell, and paparazzi ask millions of questions at once, none of which Louis can decipher in the midst of the commotion. 

He stumbles on something on the ground, no comprehension of what the obstacle is and no time to figure it out before Harry is letting his hand go, and tightly presses him to his side, arm in a secure grip around his waist. The breath that had caught in his lungs blows out through his nose, heartbeat settling before it has even begun to race. 

“Okay?” Harry asks, lips against his ear. 

“Fine,” he assures. 

They reach the entrance to another hallway after only a couple of minutes, and they are relieved from the strong airport lights, camera flashes, and loud shouts. The door closes behind Louis, who is last in, and for a moment they are all huddled inside the start of the hallway. 

“Everybody good?” someone asks, and after confirmations of this they resume moving, this time without precautions against paps and fans. Harry strolls silently next to Louis, staring down at the grey floor with a perplexed expression on his face.

Louis lets his index finger rub against his wrist. “What is it, love?”

“She said she loved me,” he mutters, running a hand over his face. 

“What?” Louis asks, frowning in confusion at his torn expression, fingers still pressed to the very bottom of the other boy’s palm.

“No matter what, she said,” he continues. His hand is shaking as he ruffles his hair. 

“Oh.” Louis looks at him tentatively from the side, and relief washes over him when Harry hesitantly links their fingers. It doesn’t feel completely right, not when it seems like Harry is still somewhat uneager about touching him even like this, still hurt by what Louis said the other day. It’s better than it could have been. “That’s _great_ , Harry. It really is.”

He nods, and then again, a bit more fervently. “I know. I know. S’just… it feels weird because now it really means something.”

Louis squeezes his palm. “Everyone loves you, babe.”

Harry clears his throat, and awkwardly drops Louis’ hand. Louis refuses let the sinking feeling in his gut bother him. This awkwardness between them is only temporary. After he tells him, everything will be okay. Well, hopefully.

They arrive at their gate through the secret hallways, and get to wait for boarding in the private rooms with fancy furniture. It doesn’t take long, however, before Zayn and Niall arrive with their guards, both of them enveloping Harry in tight hugs. 

“So proud of you!” Niall says, his eyes filled with happy tears as he clings to the taller one of them. 

Harry chuckles gravelly, clearing his throat. “Thanks. Can’t quite believe it yet.”

It is surreal. Louis can’t even begin to try to understand how Harry feels. It would be unreasonable to say he could. After years in this industry, forced to engage in fake relationship after relationship with the wrong gender, Harry is free from the crap that used to surround him on the daily. He gets to be himself, without qualms or restrictions. It’s a big change in his life, and Louis doesn’t blame him for a second for being unsure of how to act at the moment.

They get to board the plane after only a few minutes of waiting. They fly first class, and each of the band members get a bed to sleep in, including Louis whose bunk is right by Harry’s. After not having slept too well the previous night, Louis settles in after the aeroplane has reached designated height. It’s a ten-hour flight, one that he does not know how to spend when things are as strange as they are with Harry. The previous day was easier; there was too much going on to keep them from focusing on themselves. 

He kicks off his shoes, able to see Harry farther down the aisle by Liam, chatting with their faces close. Something in him twists; he hasn’t been that near Harry since the embrace the morning before. They had stood for Louis doesn’t know how long, holding one another close as Harry’s tears landed on the skin at the curve of Louis’ neck, sobbing quietly. Everything since then is tentative.

Louis places a pair of headphones on his head, and lies down on the pillow. Harry’s new album is in his music library, but he can’t bring himself to listen. That one song hits a little close to home. Instead he chooses to tap _shuffle_ , and eventually he falls asleep to the sound of Mika singing Grace Kelly. 

He wakes up what feels like a couple hours later. His eyelids are droopy and heavy, but he blinks his eyes open, sighing heavily. He shoves the headphones off, Brendon Urie’s voice vibrating softly in his ears. His face feels swollen, like he has had his face pressed into the sheets for too long. His body is doughy. 

He is about to roll over, when he catches eye of Harry standing by the end of his bed, kitten tummy poking out, face in a frown. _Cuddle_ , is what Louis’ sleepy brain instantly thinks. _Please._

“Come lie with me,” he asks. He doesn’t give a shit right now. Harry looks at him for a long moment, twirling his phone in his hands. His curls are tousled as though he has been repeatedly scratching at his head, and he looks a bit lonely. “Come,” Louis says again, voice still hoarse and soft, but it’s an instruction this time. 

Harry finally nods, and shoves the phone into his pocket, walking over to the edge of Louis’ bunk. Louis lifts the covers, making room for him on the inner side. Harry always sleeps on the left. 

The other boy climbs onto the bed, jumping over Louis’ legs to fit in. He slips in under the blanket, and surprisingly lies down facing Louis. He looks up at him, eyes suddenly astonishingly round and big, his bottom lip pouting out as the tears start to pool.

Louis chest tightens. “Love, what’s…?”

“I’m fine,” Harry insists, gasping it out. “I’m fine, I’m fine —”

“You’re not fine,” Louis says, shaking his head as he meets Harry halfway, embracing him as his hand reaches for his t-shirt. 

“But that’s the thing,” he sniffles, coughing into Louis’ shoulder. “I’m fine.”

He gives him a moment to explain, stroking his back with as much warmth as possible. 

“I feel fine,” he sobs, his breathing hitching as he speaks. “But I don’t know if that’s how it’s supposed to be? Should I be screaming it from the rooftops?” He exhales. “I’m just… relieved that I don’t have to hide anymore. I don’t want it to be a big deal.”

“Breathe, H,” Louis whispers, stroking his back up and down. “However you want to act is your prerogative.”

“I don’t want it to be a huge thing.”

“Your way is brilliant, love. Jeff didn’t say anything about the way you did it. He let you post the video on your terms. He’s just trying to spin it in a good way now. What you did was right and brave, and the way you want to act afterward is your choice.”

“I don’t know how to feel. I should be happier —”

“You should feel how you feel,” Louis says decisively. “However you feel is okay.”

He sniffles. “I want to just continue living my life, but without the pretence not liking men.”

“You get to do that now, love,” Louis whispers. “You did it. You did something so, so brave, and now you get to do that. A normal life.”

“I just wish —”

“Hmm?”

“I just wish you and I were better,” he whispers.

Louis slowly pales, feeling the same sinking feeling in his gut once more. The silence grows long, the moment stilling. “I’m sorry, H,” he whispers. 

“I didn’t mean to bring it up,” he exhales shakily. “We’re gonna talk about it because I — I don’t —” He presses his forehead against Louis’ shoulder, hard. “I don’t fucking —”

Louis is oh so close to spitting it out. 

“Not now,” Harry mumbles, lips brushing his skin, the material of the t-shirt so thin he can feel his breath there. The trickling feeling down his back causes his skin to prickle. “We’re gonna. Later. Not done with that.”

“I —”

“You lied. And I don’t even know about what part of it.” He snuggles into Louis’ chest, sufficiently ending the conversation. Louis swallows. His thumb is still digging into the soft material of Harry’s shirt, but he doesn’t feel much other than Harry’s ribcage moving against his own. 

He did lie. Yes, he did. He wishes he hadn’t had to, and he wishes he just simply hadn’t. But maybe now it has brought them to a point where it’s time to actually tell the truth, and all of it. 

Waking up a second time at least an hour later, he can feel Harry still breathing by his side. He watches him for a moment, hair long and tangled, lips pouting gently against the pillows. The situation they are in is straining on his heart. 

With a small sigh, Louis searches for his phone, finding it on the floor by his carry on, headphones still in the jack. It seems to be noon, Los Angeles time, and his stomach growls quietly as if on cue. Ignoring it, he takes a moment to log onto Twitter, and noting his new follower count he arches a surprised brow. It isn’t that he didn’t figure it would grow — he is officially _the_ Harry Styles’ boyfriend now — but he didn’t expect it to this extent. During the three months of being with Harry in America his count has grown over one-hundred-and-fifty per cent. By the looks of it, by the end of this week that won’t be close to enough. 

The congratulations and celebratory tweets to Harry from friends and family came in masses the previous day, celebrities, industry people, and private friends alike. There were several trends of congratulations, statements of proudness and love by fans, the topic not seeming to die out anytime soon. Louis’ own social media mentions and follows shot through the roof after the video, and it all seems to be mostly on the positive side for him. Jeff says it’s of most importance that they like him, not risking a chance for negativity regarding Harry’s coming out.

His congratulatory tweet to Harry is still pinned at the top his account. 

_So unfathomably proud of my boyfriend for taking an enormous step today. You deserve the world. No one could ask for a better person in their life. I love you._

Fleetingly scrolling through his mentions simply to check the state they are in, he rubs at the scruff growing along his jaw and on top of his upper lip. 

When did you meet Harry? _When I was three_ , he thinks. Do you like the colour green? _Sure._ Do you love him? _Yes._ Go fuck yourself. _Rather not._ How does Harry look naked? _Beautiful._ How long have you been together? _Ahem._

Still working on that last one. 

Things are rocky. Not a complete disaster, no, but unsteady. Harry is still upset with him, Louis is very aware of that, but they have seemed to put it slightly to the side for the while being. There are several important things at matter. Harry coming out has reached every place of the world, not the least every mind interested in the music industry, and there are lots of things at stake. 

With the album being released in practically a day and half, there are many things to focus on rather than their own private issues. While Louis aches to fix everything, he did promise himself not to make this week any more problematic that it already is, and that means letting his fight with Harry be set aside. Harry is on the same page. 

_Are you aware of this yet?_ someone has written, another tweet attached to the bottom of the mention. Louis taps the tweet, and is met with a screenshot of Harry’s Instagram. It’s a picture of himself, sleeping in the very same bunk Harry is currently cuddled into by his side. It must have been taken before he joined him.

‘ _Such a sneak…_ ’ he replies, his first tweet to any fan since the news broke. He regards the pictures for a few minutes, wondering for how long Harry had been looking at him before he took it. Just like Louis had been watching Harry on Monday night after the miserable yacht day, Harry had been watching him right back only hours ago. Louis sincerely hopes he felt the same as he did, too. 

All he wants is to fix this. He wants to tell him that he loves him — _needs to_ — but the stress of this week is already enough. In the result of things, Harry might be relieved Louis was never uncomfortable with being intimate with him, but who knows if he will find Louis’ feelings for him any better? It’s a different sort of problem. One they can wait with discussing. 

“Hey.”

Louis looks up from his phone, finding Harry’s eyes on him. The other boy is blinking groggily, rubbing at his right eye.

“Hi,” he whispers, lowering the device.

“What were you doing?” Harry mumbles, eyelids tiredly falling shut again. He smacks his lips adorably. 

“Just saw the picture you snuck of me.”

Harry’s eyes slowly open. “Oh.”

Louis can’t find anything to add to that, and neither does it seem Harry has. They remain where they are, gazing at one another. Physically there is not much space separating them, but there is a small wrinkle between Harry’s brows, and with that it feels like they are miles apart. 

“Do you know,” Harry begins. He inhales shakily, his voice quiet and without expectations. “Do you know how much I love you?”

Louis saw the video. He could see that Harry loves him. He could hear it in his voice when he spoke. It grew in the way he touched him. And in this moment he can see it in his eyes. He just doesn’t know how much it means. 

“Hold me again. For a minute,” Harry requests, voice thick. “Please.” 

He rolls over, burrowing his face into the pillow under his head. Louis nods, and scoots closer. He gently eases his arm under the other boy, and laces the other over his waist. He hugs him to his own chest, squeezing softly. 

_I will tell you. Soon_ , he promises.

♡

The hotel they stay in is made a public affair.

After a long flight they were not left alone at Heathrow, rather ambushed by what seemed like the entire country’s army of photographers and fans. Walking out and into waiting shiny, black vans with multiple security men following Harry, Louis, and the boys, Louis felt as though he might have underappreciated Harry’s stardom all this time. It was in the middle of the night in the UK, and yet there wasn’t an empty space where they had all strolled out. 

Louis was quickly manoeuvred into Harry’s car meanwhile the man himself was — flanked by two guards — stopping to take pictures with waiting fans. The paparazzi were plaguing him through all of it, yelling in his face and asking the most personal questions. Louis hadn’t seen _cool_ until that moment in his life. With Harry and his family, Louis’ car had driven off first, while each of the other boy’s vehicles had given them some time to get away, not to cause any disturbances. 

The hotel back in London was surrounded by fans and media the moment _The Sun_ had made it clear on their website where they were staying through an online article, and since then there hasn’t been a silent moment on the street outside the building. It only cleared somewhat when Harry left this morning with Niall, obviously to get papped and seen, but also to visit the music label’s office in city. 

While he has been gone, Louis has caught up with friends who live in the city over the phone. Stan, Luke, and Cass are his three pals he generally always sees when he is in London, and he has made sure to invite them for the evening’s album release party. With the album out at midnight, now even more anticipated and the main subject of the whole bloody industry, it’s going to be big. Even Irving Azoff has flown all the way over to attend, and despite not having met the man, Louis knows it’s a huge deal. 

A huge event like this has got him nervous, of course. It’s the biggest private party of the year, and not just industry figures are attending. There will be other celebrities, big ones (everyone wants to be part of this, especially after the last few days), and it will include a photography station where they will take their official attendee pictures. It’s Harry and Louis’ first formal outing, and the whole world will be looking at these pictures of them holding hands and with their arms around one another, judging them as a couple with one short glance. 

The fact that he will have friends there is reassuring. Unfortunately he couldn’t get his family down to London — school, work, and everything someone’s life entitles and Louis has sneakily managed to escape for three whole months, but inevitably has to get back to eventually, having caught in the way. He has his three pals, however, and with the band, crew, and Sophia he reckons it’s going to be fine when they sure enough get inside. 

It’s almost one o’clock, and Harry should be back at the hotel in an hour or so. Still in only sweats and a worn t-shirt, having slept in after the long flight and night, Louis leans back against the headboard, pillows and duvet fluffed around him. Harry’s side of the bed is still as unmade, obvious signs of him still there. 

When he checks Twitter, Harry’s name is still trending. This time the topic is his paparazzi photos from the day, looking tired but quietly smiley as he greeted fans outside the hotel. He looks pretty, so beautiful in the morning sunlight. This is what he is always supposed to look like. Louis doesn’t want to see distress on his face ever again.

He scrolls his feed, free from Harry’s drama except for the old congratulations tweets that pop up as he reaches the bottom of the timeline. There’s a tweet in there that belongs to his oldest little sister, her icon having changed since the last time he viewed her profile. It only takes him half a minute to find her number in his favourites list, the ringing tones purring in his ear. 

“It’s Lottie,” his sister answer breezily.

“It’s me,” he replies, head slumping back as he scoots down against the pillows. He thinks he can hear pots slamming somewhere in the background.

“Hey, bro,” she says, voice lighter. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” he hums. “What are you doing?”

“I’m cooking. Dan’s got the wee ones at the park. They’re gonna be starving in a bit.”

Louis moans quietly. “I want to be there. I miss you.”

“Me, too, mate. It’s not too long now before you’re home again, yeah?”

Louis pouts, mixed feelings about that one rolling in his belly. “Nah…” He glances at the window across the room, a view of the city stretching vaguely in his sight. “I saw your icon on Twitter. I like your new hair. That green stuff really suits you.”

She snorts. “Yeah okay, Lou. Now let’s talk about the real thing you rung about.”

He rolls his eyes. “Fine. I love Harry”

“I know.”

“No, I’m _in love_ with him.”

“I _know_.”

“Don’t be rude.”

Lottie cackles quietly. “Okay, sorry, sorry. Yes, you’re in love with him. You want his babies. Alright, so. The predicament is?”

“No predicament…” he sighs. “I’m going to tell him. Soon.”

“Sounds reasonable?”

He swallows, fingers pulling at the corner of the pillowcase under his back. “I’m fucking nervous, Lots.”

He hears her stop moving in the kitchen, the sounds of pots and knives dissipating. “Listen, Lou,” she says seriously. “Harry is so in love with you. It’s that easy. Get that through your brain.”

“H-how do you know that?” he asks, brows knitting. 

“Everyone in the bloody world knows that. And not because he told it in the YouTube video, but because he spoke to you in the most lovey-dovey voice he has ever spoken in, _while_ touching you like you were an angel sparing him a second’s attention by resting in between his sheets.”

Louis’ eyes drop to his lap. “I’m not self-indulgent if I think that I might have seen it, too?” he whispers. It’s been gnawing at his brain, chest, at his entire body. Does Harry feel this, too? Louis has never seen him in love. The boy has never been in a relationship, so how in the world can he be sure?

“You’d be a twat if you hadn’t. Even a blind man would know.”

“So,” he says. “You think I should just tell him? Despite it being in the midst of this big week?”

“What better time could there be? They want you to look in love, right? What looks more like love than actual love?”

“What if he doesn’t, though?”

“Then… isn’t it better he knows the truth rather than believes the worst?” Louis can hear that her brows are arched, and if she were here should would lean in and make eyes at him. He told her about the fight, over a rather succinct text message, and though she couldn’t help him much, it had made him feel better. 

“You’re right,” he agrees. “Totally.” He bites his lip. “I miss you.”

“Miss you, too. Text me after he says it back.”

“Says what?”

She snorts, fondness clear as a sunny day sky. “That he loves you, too, naturally.” He takes a breath, silent for a moment. “Lou,” Lottie says. “He isn’t going to say no.”

“I hope not, love.”

Their phone conversation lasts for a while. Venturing onto other subjects, Louis feels better. With his mind on different things, not staying locked up in the Harry bubble he has been in for the last months, it’s easier not to feel cornered, or shut in. 

Harry comes back around two, and he has got lunch with him. His hair is a bit frizzy from the wind outside, but it seems the sky is clearing by the minute. 

“Hey,” he says, setting a bag with Thai food down on the nearest bed. Louis has just taken a shower, hair damp and licking his neck. He is only in a hoodie and boxers, holding a pack of cigarettes. 

“Hi,” he greets, holding up the lighter. “Want one? M’just heading out.”

Harry regards him for a moment, worrying his bottom lip. “Just one. Don’t want the food getting cold.”

“Bring it out,” Louis suggests. He opens the balcony door and slips out, socked feet landing against the wooden terrace floor. The balcony isn’t too big, but there’s no roof above them, and the fairly warm sun above them makes the slight breeze worth the while. It’s warm for September, despite the half grey sky.

Louis can see fans outside the hotel below them as he puts a cigarette to his lips, leaning against the railing, but none of them seem to be looking up for the time being. He lights the cig and inhales, feeling the tame wind around his bare thighs. 

Harry joins him couple minutes later, handing Louis a box of food. Louis offers him his pack of cigarettes in return, but Harry declines, shaking his head. 

“Eating first.”

Louis nods, and digs into the noodles with his chopsticks, cig between his two fingers. Harry picks a spring roll from his box, chewing off the end. 

“I like the English air,” Harry says. 

“Yeah?”

“I mean, it’s quite polluted here in London, but back home in Manchester it’s a bit better. It’s lighter, feels fresher. It’s so warm in Los Angeles.”

“Why are you always all the way over in L.A.?” Louis asks, corner of his mouth pointing down. He wants him here when he can’t be in America anymore. He wants him with him. 

“I like it. The weather makes you want go out and do stuff every day. I feel good there, but I also miss this city…”

“You can be here more, yeah…?” Louis finds himself asking, and he hopes the note of pleading is only notably to himself. “In England. Technically you don’t have to be all the way over there all the time. You can be here more. I’m not saying all the time, but… more.”

Harry picks out another spring roll. “I could, I guess. I have my house here, and all. It’s just been easier to be there while everything has been going on as of late.”

Louis sucks on his cigarette, inhaling deeply. “What happens after this?” he asks unsurely. “I — I don’t want to go back to the way things were.”

Harry doesn’t reply immediately. Louis swallows and turns to face him, putting his food down on the nearest table. He stubs his cigarette, and lights another. 

“I really don’t want to…” He swallows, blinking quickly. Harry is staring down at his food, elbows on the railing. Louis tentatively walks closer, leaving a decimetre of space between them. “I’m going to miss you.”

“You can’t be with me in L.A. forever,” Harry mumbles, eyes downcast. “You want to be a teacher, not a fake boyfriend for the rest of your life. So, when this ends in a few months down the road…” 

When promo season is over, Louis is meant to be here in England without Harry. The stunt is supposed to be kept up with social media and old pictures, maybe a papped outing whenever Harry is back. 

“I don’t want you to exile yourself to Los Angeles,” Louis whispers. He is making demands, something he has no right to, especially not when Harry is still hurting over him, but he can’t bear the thought of seeing him just a few time a year. He needs to talk about this. “I don’t want to go months without seeing you. I don’t — I can’t do that.”

“Lou…” He turns to face him, looking down with a pained look in his eyes. “I don’t want that, either. Can we do this later? I just — not right now.”

Louis nods, thumbing his cigarette. Harry is so close, and Louis wishes he could just stand up on his toes and place a kiss onto his soft lips. He can’t, however, and then someone down on the street is squealing, and the screams among the crowd go off. Louis glances down to see fans waving and shouting down there, camera flashes being directed up at them as well.

Harry plasters on a smile, and waves with his free hand. Louis doesn’t take his eyes off the boy, feeling sadness stem deep down. He wonders what happens if Harry loves him back, and they decide to be together. Will Harry be here in London more so Louis can take the train to see him? Or what if he doesn’t love him back, and Harry hides away in Los Angeles for the rest of his life. 

In the midst of his thoughts, Harry’s gentle hand takes the cigarette from between his fingers, and puts it to his own lips. His hand tangles with Louis’. “We’ll figure it out,” he promises. 

Louis nods, hugging his hand tightly. 

When it nears four o’clock, Louis and Harry head a floor down to get ready for tonight’s event. The rest of the boys are there, shimmying around the fairly large hotel room as they get ready. The team is there; Damien and Amelia with their clothes, Julia currently giving Zayn’s hair a trim while Grace is doing Liam’s makeup, Jack and Nora on their phones, and there is a woman Louis doesn’t recognise. 

“Harry!” Nora says, walking over and giving him a loose hug. “Congratulations! Everything is going extremely well, all according to plan!”

Harry chuckles as she lets him go, already on her phone again. “Thanks, and good to know.”

“Heyo, look who’s here!” Niall grins from where he is standing by Damien’s side, getting his shirt buttoned. “The love birds!”

“Hey, Ni,” Harry says. “And button your own shirt you dickhead.”

Damien slaps the boy’s hands away. “No! You’ve still got grease from ruffling your hair.”

Niall shrugs at Harry, who shakes his head with a small smirk. After that, getting ready is in full motion. Damien orders Louis over to show him the clothes he is supposed to wear. He had taken his measurements back when they did the music video, and the jeans he steps into this time are a perfect fit. They are snug and black, sitting perfect around his arse and thighs. The shoes he is given are shiny and black, perhaps a little too glossy. He likes the shirt, however. It’s simple looking, but surely expensive, hanging a bit low over his arse, buttoned all the way up to his throat.

“Ahem,” he says to Damien, clearing his throat. “D’you mind if I use me own shoes?”

The man squints at him. “What shoes?”

Louis sheepishly points at his Vans sneakers, the pair he has been wearing practically the whole summer. “Those?”

Damien does not look pleased, but before he can say a word Louis can hear Harry behind him. “You can wear whatever you want, Lou,” he says quietly, biting his lip as he gives him a silent onceover.

Harry looks perfect. His curls are fluffed and bouncy, long and gorgeous. There’s makeup on his face, cheekbones ever so slightly enhance in a subtle manner, a tiny line of kohl painted along his eyes. His lips are pretty, and pink. Louis honestly has no clue if that is lip gloss or real. Either way he is entirely kissable.

“You look beautiful,” Harry mutters, something sad caught in his gaze. “Really do.” He casts his eyes away, Damien garnering his attention, and Louis is called over to Julia to ‘get his face on’. 

When everyone is ready to leave for the event, they head down to the lobby along with their security. Nora and Jack are with them, assigning cars and the order to ride in. The boys have their dates to pick up: Zayn Gigi Hadid for PR purposes, Liam has to fetch Sophia, and Niall has a friend from home. Louis is not sure if there is only friendship or romance there. 

Naturally, there are a million paps and fans outside, including actual policemen to keep order now that all four of the band members are stepping out. The world has their eyes on them in this moment, and the first official event for Harry since his coming out is everything anyone has been talking about. Will he say anything? Will or won’t Louis join him? Are they going to match their outfits? Will there be kissing and handholding?

“Okay, let’s go through it again,” Jack says when the three if them, along with Alberto, are sitting in the car on the way to the venue of the big event. “When we arrive, you will simply smile and wave, hold hands, and walk inside in a calm manner. Do not make any comments, yeah?”

They nod.

“So, inside we take the arrival photos. Just stand closely, composed and relaxed, no need for romantic touches, but do try to look like a couple. When we’re inside, remember that we have the fans from the competition attending. There are only five of them, and they aren’t gonna be up in your business after that half an hour of hanging with you they were promised. They’ll be taken care of. Do remember to keep up your appearances for them, please.”

They nod again, not looking at one another. 

“Anyways, we’ve also got a photo booth. Louis, feel free to take pictures with whomever you want, but a private set with only the two of you is essential. Including a kiss, yeah? After the first ‘private’ pap pictures that the magazine we’re working with will get of your first public kiss, we’re posting the photo booth ones off your social media.”

Jack takes a breath. 

“Other than that, enjoy yourselves, lads. Don’t leave before one, and make sure to do it in front of the paps. Same thing, do not say anything, and do not go anywhere without Alberto. I know you, Harry. You always try to sneak around without a bodyguard. Not here in London when you’re staying at a hotel, and you’re with Louis, yeah? Not safe.”

“Got it,” Harry sighs, ruffling his curls and touching the very ends. They’re getting really long, reaching far past his shoulders. He is too beautiful. Louis didn’t know one could be so enthralled with someone’s hair. 

They have to wait around the block for some time, while other celebrities and guests are arriving. Louis texts with his three mates, making sure they’re getting there safely and will get inside. Harry made sure weeks ago they are on the list, but he wants to be certain they are getting in.

Harry’s parents and Gemma are arriving in another car, might even be at the party already. They’re staying in a different hotel for safety reasons, but Louis is looking forward to seeing them at the venue. The last few days at Harry’s in Los Angeles felt strained, and it was hard to act normal around them when everything with Harry was bothering him. He is hoping tonight will be easier. There is less pressure in this setting. 

When they finally get to arrive at the event, the entryway has been cleared entirely of fans, keeping them behind the restriction bars. Alberto jumps out first, Jack following, and Harry next. The fans scream, and the paparazzi snap their cameras, yelling loudly to gain his attention. Louis steps out after, and Harry calmly takes his hand, lacing their fingers. Louis takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders, plastering an easy smile onto his lips. 

They stroll in a perfectly even manner, doing remarkably well at keeping themselves looking cool and collected, but not uninviting. Fans yell for pictures, paps yell for comments from Harry, and there’s someone on Louis’ right that catches his eye.

“Harry! Can I have a picture, please?” It’s a boy, seemingly fourteen or so. Louis isn’t one for judging people at first appearance, but he instantly gets the impression that this boy isn’t straight. He is staring at Harry with shining eyes as they pass, and Louis instantly digs his heels into the asphalt, tugging on Harry’s hand. Harry looks back at him in confusion; they weren’t supposed to be interacting with anyone. Louis nods toward the boy in the heap of people, hugging his hand tightly. 

Harry looks at both of them for a moment, meanwhile Louis can see Jack sigh in exasperation by the door. Harry squeezes Louis’ hand back, and directs a soft smile at the boy. “Would you like a photo?” he asks the boy, who looks like he is near fainting. He nods weakly, eyes glossy. Harry frowns for a moment, observing the metal bars keeping him apart from the boy. 

“Here,” he says, dropping Louis’ hand and extending it to him. “‘Berto, a little help, please?”

Alberto instantly steps forward, and helps Harry get the young teen over the bars until his feet are safely on the ground. Louis takes the mobile phone from the boy’s hand, grinning madly as Harry laces his arm over the boy’s shoulders, holding him close. The case on the phone catches his eye. It’s baby blue, and there is a cartoonish drawing of Harry and Louis under a rainbow. Louis taps away, getting at least twenty quick snaps in as he smiles broadly, having trouble keeping it down. 

The boy is beaming, staring at Harry in awe. He’s cute; hair in a small, dark quiff, slightly curly around the ears. He is gonna be a killer one day.

“There you go,” Louis says as he hands the little lad his phone back. “What’s your name?”

“Ian.”

“Have a good night, Ian,” he smiles. “I dig your phone case.”

The boy blushes deeply, and thanks them both at least a million times. Harry simply keeps his arm around Ian’s shoulders, the other in Louis’ hand, as he strolls toward the entryway, letting a security guy take him back to the other side of the bars from there. 

Harry’s lips brush his ear as they step into a hallway preceding the party venue. “This is why I love you,” he hums. Louis’ heart rate accelerates, and he swallows thickly as they’re lead toward the wardrobe to stash their things.

“I don’t have any good pockets,” he mutters, still a faint blush on his cheeks. 

“I’ll take it,” Harry says, grabbing Louis’ phone from his hand and stuffing it into his back pocket. 

“Thank you.”

“Welcome.”

After Harry’s jacket is turned in and his pink and flowery shirt is revealed, the butterfly tattoo just peeking out, they are finally entering the party. The place is large, and the lighting is dim. There seems to be different sections; bar, tables, dance floor, terrace at an inner courtyard further in, etcetera. The ceiling is high, and everything looks simultaneously posh and easy going. There is advertisement for the album everywhere, and Louis can instantly hear _Never Enough_ playing from the speakers. He wonders if it’s going to be on repeat throughout the evening. 

“Arrival photos!” Jack urges, waving them into a corner where large advertising boards are placed, naturally with the name of the album plastered all over. There is a woman currently being photographed in front of them, posing with pouty lips and her hip poking out.

Louis’ mouth falls open. “Is that Kim K?!” Wow. “She’s even fitter in person!”

“You’re gay, Lou.”

“So? She’s fucking gorgeous.”

Harry sighs, entirely displeased. Louis wonders how fucking fast someone’s mood can change, honestly. 

The space clears, Kim heading to a group of girls to join the party meanwhile Louis’ eyes follow her. Jack gestures for them to get in front of the camera, though, and the photographers instantly perk up. They have gained attention from a lot of places by now, people having realised that the last piece of the band, and inarguably the most interesting one for the moment, has arrived. With his boyfriend, not the least. 

They take place in front of the cameras, Jack on their right, gesturing for them to cuddle up. When it takes Harry a moment to move, Louis laces a secure arm around him, squeezing his waist in a tight grip. He knows Harry is ticklish in that precise spot, and the boy immediately smiles, worming in his arms. 

“Stop.”

“You’re gonna look ridiculous if you keep doing that,” Louis grins, and Harry places his arm over his shoulders, pulling him close. 

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” Louis smirks, and they turn to the cameras, letting them take their photos as they grin with genuine smiles. Louis feels as though Harry’s mood swings are going to give him a whiplash. 

Joining the party, they walk in hand in hand. There are people instantly greeting them, which shouldn’t be surprising, but feels strange. Louis has always had friends, and at points a whole bunch of them, but the way people simply group around Harry to chat and congratulate him, talking to him as though they are old friends — which, hell, they might even be in this industry — is a completely foreign concept. 

There are more than a few celebrities around. Louis spots Adele, Robert Pattinson, and Tom Daley within fifteen minutes from the same spot he has been stood in by Harry’s side since they strolled in. He feels awkward with people’s eyes on him, looking at him with obvious interest, but he manages to not let it get to him. He has never had trouble with attention, but in this way it’s not the same. Louis speaks politely when he is addressed, but he admits he feels relieved when he spots Gemma. He alerts Harry to her presence, and it doesn’t take long before he finds Anne and Robin not too far away. 

They excuse themselves from a couple they were chatting to, Harry throwing himself into the arms of his sister, before doing the same with Anne and Robin. Louis hugs them tightly, staying by Gemma’s side with his arm around her.

“You doing okay?” she asks. 

“Fine,” he reassures. “All of this is a bit overwhelming, though. Like, the hotel is constantly swarmed by people. It feels a bit like a zoo sometimes.”

“Hmm, yeah,” she sympathises. “I’m glad I’m not staying there. I’ve seen some pictures, it didn’t look very safe. They really do everything for publicity…”

“Want to get drinks?” he asks.

“Sure.”

Jack shows up at the same moment, and Harry disappears off with him, supposed to be joining the band to hang out with some fans. Louis departs with Gemma in tow when Jeff and his father come to chat to Harry’s parents, and they instantly go to the bar to get drinks. 

There are tons of people everywhere, everyone in expensive clothing and nice hairstyles. There are waiters and waitresses walking around with champagne flutes on trays, and Louis downs one before they have even reached the bar. 

“I want to get drunk,” he says.

Gemma shakes her head. “You do not want to do that. Not tonight.”

He grimaces. “I know it’s not right for this party, but I just…” He feels itchy — his problems with Harry are bothering him more than he can handle. 

“Let’s dance for a bit, alright? And get a little tipsy,” she winks. 

They order a Cosmo each, sipping them down before heading out on the dance floor. It doesn’t take them long to find Julia, and they end up joining her and a friend of hers for a long while. They have drinks and dance, eventually going outside to smoke and talk. The photo booth does not go wasted, and they go in for several rounds of posing ridiculously. However, Louis remembers he needs to find his mates, but realising his phone is with Harry he excuses himself from Gemma, heading back into the mass to find the boy. 

After being stopped by several people who apparently know him, to whom he smiles politely and greets, he finally sees him. He is sitting at a low table, armchairs and a sofa encircling it. The boys in the band and a few other people are situated around it, security standing a fair bit away, and there are several lines of shots queued up in the middle of the table. It seems several glasses are already empty, and Louis can see Niall sucking on a cigarette even though they are inside.

The people he doesn’t recognise must be the fans who’ve won the competition to hang out with the boys for a bit tonight, and though he really doesn’t want to interrupt, he takes a breath, bracing himself before he sneaks up behind his fake boyfriend. 

“Hi there,” he whispers in Harry’s ear, rubbing his hands over his chest gently. Harry looks up, turning his head until their faces are just centimetres apart. 

“Hi,” he says, slight surprise in his eye, seemingly turning a little stiff. Louis knows the fans are looking, and keeps himself composed, not letting it bother him how Harry still isn’t entirely comfortable with him since the day on the yacht. He lets his thumb rub under his collarbone. 

“I need my phone, love,” he hums into his ear, trying to disturb as little as possible. “In your pocket.”

“Oh.” He stands slightly, digging into his back pocket and fetching out Louis’ phone, sitting back down. He holds it out, but doesn’t let go of it until Louis looks up at him. “Doing okay?” he wonders, whispering. 

“S’fine, don’t worry.” He gives his chest a quick pat, and tries to slip away in a subtle manner. Unfortunately, Harry’s hand closes around his wrist, bringing him into his side. 

“Guys,” he says, smiling a little too brightly, “this is Louis, my boyfriend. Lou, meet everyone. This is Anna, Josephine, Will, Vera, and Tate.”

His hand rubs Louis’ other thigh, keeping his smile bright as Louis glances down at him, hand settling on his far shoulder. He nods, glancing around the table politely, raising the hand that’s clutching his iPhone. 

“Hello,” he says bashfully, knowing the fans around the table are super alerted to his presence. “Hope you’re enjoying your night.” He smiles at them, before looking down at Harry. “Gotta go meet the boys.”

“Alright, see you later.” He squeezes his waist, and Louis gingerly tugs on one of his curls, before waving awkwardly and heading off. 

He rubs over his face with his hands, brushing the fringe aside. This strange atmosphere around them is getting far too bothersome. They’re taking kiss pictures tonight. How is that going to go well with the temperature that’s currently between them? Louis needs drinks, and a distraction. 

After a quick phone call to Stan, he finds the lads near the dance area. He wraps them up in large hugs, grinning hugely as they cheer loudly. It has been so long. 

He spends a long time with the boys, catching up and drinking, meanwhile Harry is probably drinking the five hundred shots that were lined up on the group’s table. It’s been so long since he has seen his lads in person, longer than ever. He used to go to uni with Stan and Luke in Manchester, and befriended Cass through them a few years ago when the two of them moved to London and he came back from travelling. He takes the train every month or so to party with them in the capital, and it’s been three months almost on the dot since he saw them last. 

He can’t deny that he misses his life home in England, but he can’t say that he is dying to get back, either. He cannot be away from Harry the way he used to be again, but he obviously can’t stay with him in America. They need to sort that out. They really do — whether they end up together, or not. 

As he is ambling near the bar, having let the boys jack off to dance, Niall reels him, catching his arm and pulling him to his side. The brunet boy is cradling a large pint, and he instantly waves for the bartender to help them out when Louis is settled by him, leaning against the bar counter. 

“Yes, lads?” the man behind the counter says, leaning against the edge for a short moment. His hair is dyed blue, eyes brown and large. “What can I help you out with?

“This lad,” Niall says, “needs a drink.”

“What will it be, sir?” he asks, directing his small grin at Louis. 

“Cosmo, please,” he requests, giving a grateful smile as the man nods and sets to work.

“Listen,” Niall says, serious. “We need to talk. It’s important.” Louis meets his earnest gaze, nodding. Alright. “I thought everything was cool between you and Harry?” 

Oh. 

“Err… It is.”

Niall gives him a grim look. “Then why is Liam telling me not to ‘intervene’ between you and him?” He takes a sip from the beer. “I thought you two had figured it out. You were together the other night.”

“We weren’t having sex, Ni.”

His ice blue eyes only hold incredulousness. “So? You were at least dry humping, or summat. You wouldn’t be doing that unless you were in love with him. I’ve read up, man. I know shit. And don’t get mad, but Harry explained a lot when I asked him about you when you first got here.”

Louis arches an honestly quite impressed brow. “Nah, that’s fine, mate. You could have asked me.”

He just shakes his head. “Okay, yeah, maybe. But back to the real thing, what the fuck is going on, man? Why is Liam saying Harry isn’t sure you like being with him?”

Louis’ drink is placed by his side and he instantly grasps it, swallowing down at least a third of the V shaped glass. “Well,” he says as he winces at the alcohol. “I asked him if we could stop doing it when we weren’t obliged to…?”

Niall stares at him. “What did he say?”

“He called me cunt,” Louis announces, giving the boy in front of him a pressed smile. 

“ _Really_?” His eyes are nearly bulging out of his head. 

“Yep.”

“Oh, wow,” Niall chuckles in disbelief. “Jeez, tough one, bro.” He suddenly frowns. “But… he understands how you feel, right?”

It’s unbelievably easy to talk to Niall, and he doesn’t even have to blink before the words come tumbling from his mouth. He isn’t certain when it happened, but he really does consider Niall a good friend. “No, hence the cunt-calling. He thinks I lied about being comfortable with him.”

Niall squawks in offence. “Is he stupid? What an insecure arse.” He takes a large swig from the pint. “I need to kick him in the balls _ASAP_.” 

“I… tried explaining, but I can’t. I couldn’t tell him it’s because I love him and it makes things confusing for us — _me_. Now we’re in this weird place as we wait for the storm of this week to blow over until we’re gonna talk properly. I’m going to tell him, though, I just can’t yet.”

“Why can’t you tell him now?”

“Because,” he sighs, “this week is already messy as it is. I don’t what to fuck it up more.”

Something extremely hard and painful knocks into his shin. Louis nearly doubles over, spluttering on his Cosmo. He looks up in shock to find Niall scowling down at him.

“Are you stupid? What an insecure twat _you_ are. How would that mess things up? Blimey! You two are the most reasonable, honest, and weirdly intuitive people I’ve met. Why is this _so_ hard for you?”

“Goddammit,” Louis whines, gritting his teeth and leaning down to rub at the spot as he grimaces. His leg is throbbing mercilessly. “You’re wearing boots, Niall!” he hisses, and groans in pain. _Shit._

“Harry!” Niall calls loudly then, waving over Louis’ head. Louis glances behind him to see Harry nursing a beer by Julian Bunetta’s side, looking rather displeased already when he starts ambling over to the boy requesting him. “You need to kiss and make up with Lou,” he demands. “God knows both of you want to.”

Harry’s voice is stiff, and rather bitter as he reaches them. “Louis doesn’t like that.”

Kiss and makeup. Hilarious. 

Louis sighs in exasperation, irritation suddenly seizing him. “You are right, Harry. I _don’t_ like that.”

Harry stares at him for a long moment. “You deserve a fucking Oscar, you know,” he mutters. “Could have sworn…” The last bit is completely inaudible, but Louis is all of a sudden upset, too. Fucking hell.

“Stop being such a fucking arse,” he grits out. His jaw hurts from clenching his teeth, and keeping the truth from Harry is getting hard. Not only because he is so used to telling him everything he sometimes feels like it’s simply going to slip right out of his mouth, but because the frustration Harry’s anger with him brings. Louis sees Niall slide off his chair and slink away in his periphery, like the sneaky minx he is, but the brunet boy is out of mind and sight the moment after.

“I can’t,” Harry says tightly. He looks at him, eyes filled with sadness even though his voice is hard. “Because either you’ve lied to me, or I have been a fucking twat who couldn’t see that my best mate was uncomfortable this whole time while I was too enticed with you to —” He interrupts himself. “Have I been fucking blind?”

Louis sighs, exasperation stirring under his skin. “No, you haven’t,” he promises, voice gentler than he ever thought possible right now. “It was never touching you, or being with you that was the problem. All I thought was that it might be confusing for us, as friends.”

“I didn’t find it confusing,” whispers Harry, his fingers tangling with one another. He suddenly comes off as insecure, uncomfortable. “I thought that — I thought that _you_ …”

“Thought what?”

He shakes his head, clenching his eyes shut. “Why was it confusing?”

Louis swallows. “Because it blurs the lines between what is fake and what isn’t.”

“What is fake then?” he asks, throwing his hands out and emphasising his inquiry. “Lay it out for me.”

“Harry,” someone says, a woman appearing by their side. It’s Nora, interrupting them with her naturally hoarse voice. “We need you two for pictures. We have to get the photo booth snaps in.”

Both if their eyes turn toward Nora, who is pointing at the direction of the booth, the drapes waiting opened. The reluctance is palpable around them, neither of them in any sort of mood to be doing that. They are having a _conversation_ right now.

“Can it wait?” Harry asks her, annoyance poorly hidden in his voice.

“Why?” she asks. “Just get it over with. Not all of us are going to be here all night. I just want to see them so we don’t sit there tomorrow and need new photos.”

Harry places his beer on the counter with a loud noise, looking away at the many bottles of alcohol lined up on the other side of the bar. 

“Please,” Nora says, and it sounds like it goes against her nature to utter the word. 

“Let’s just do this, Harry,” Louis sighs. “It’ll be over in a second.” He takes his glass and empties what’s left of it, putting it back. 

Harry presses his lips down in a hard line. “Fine.”

Nora nods, pleased, and Louis follows behind her, a slight limp to the way he walks. He is going to have a fucking bruise after tonight. Fucking Niall. Nora holds the curtains open for them, Louis heading in first while Harry uneagerly follows. Nora sticks her head in, nodding at them.

“Take a fair amount. Try to get a cuddle and a couple kisses in, just so we have some alternatives to release, alright?” She gives them a thumbs up, before ducking out and letting the drapes fall shut. 

The booth, that probably could fit in at least two more people, feels awkwardly quiet all of a sudden. Harry is sitting at least two decimetres away. There’s a screen where they can see themselves on the opposite wall, a button by its side to press when they’re ready to take the pictures. Louis can see the zebra printed background in the screen, but barely half of Harry’s body is in it. 

Louis scoots further in on the bench they are sitting on, shuffling until there is enough space for them both to be in the middle in the photos. He clears his throat, looking at Harry through the screen, even though he is right by his side.

“Shall we be begin…?” he asks dubiously. 

Harry turns to stare at him, and his words come out sarcastic and patronising all at once. “You’re _okay_ with this, right?”

And that is… not cool. 

“You know, fuck you,” Louis spits, facing the younger man completely. “I never thought you’d throw my sexuality in my face, but I guess I was wrong. I get that you’re fucking hurt because you thought I lied, but don’t ever use my sexuality to be mean. I will knock you out.”

“Lou…”

He rolls his eyes. “Yes, I know you didn’t mean it, and _blah, blah, blah_. Can’t believe how fucking inarticulate a songwriter can be.”

He releases an annoyed breath, shoulders slumping although he still feels tense. He turns to face the camera, bracing himself, meanwhile Harry groans angrily in frustration and scoots closer, his arm wrapping around Louis’ shoulders. 

“How do we do this?” Harry asks.

“Just smile.”

“I can’t fucking smile right now. Everyone will know it’s fake.”

“Great,” Louis scoffs. “Well… Alright, just hug me then, and hide your face. I’ll do something funny.”

“And the kiss?” he asks reluctantly, and Louis suddenly wonders if this is what it feels like doing a stunt with someone you barely know. Awkwardness, reluctance, strange body language. They never had to worry about that, not even when it came to intimate touches. They haven’t had to kiss for the camera until now, and it was always going to be fine, until that everything got screwed up. 

“Fine, just hug me with your face in my neck, and then look up and kiss me for the last picture, yeah?”

Harry swallows and nods, arm tightening around Louis’ shoulders as his other hand reaches over to press the button by the screen on the opposite wall. It starts counting down from five, and Harry turns into him.

“I’m sorry for everything, H,” Louis whispers. Harry sighs and buries his face in Louis’ neck from the side, nose pressing to his bare skin. He shivers as he feels his breath there, as he always does because Harry sets his nerves on fire. Every fibre of his being shakes when Harry is near. _Cling on me_ , they scream. 

His arms are locked around his back and waist, and Louis is so lost in the way the other boy feels around him that he almost loses track of the seconds ticking down. He managed to throw up a peace sign just in time, sticking his tongue out and tilting his head back. His free hand is clutching the arm around his waist, and for the second photo he turns to tuck his face at the side of Harry’s, the other boy having changed his angle only slightly toward the camera. 

The third picture brings them face to face, noses running against each other, mouths breathlessly only a centimetre apart. Harry is glancing, eyes half lidded, down at Louis’ lips, and Louis’ fingers are already cupping his face gently, albeit lustfully. There are so many ways to describe how they are suddenly embracing one another; emotionally, lovingly, desperately. 

By the fourth snap there is no pretending. Louis is not sure there ever was. Harry meets him in an open-mouthed kiss. His lips are warm and moist, tongue even warmer and mouth wetter. Louis moans instantly, his heart pounding in hot relief and satisfaction. Harry’s hands are firm and desperate around him, gripping onto his hip, thumb digging into his skin under the black shirt. Louis wonders if he knows how much he ruins him with just one hard grip. 

Something in the booth starts making noise, alerting them to that their pictures are taken. Harry slams his hand into the button on the opposite wall, ordering the camera to take another four photos. Louis gasps into his mouth, hands smoothing down his shoulders until they reach the soft material of his patterned blouse. Harry groans into him, arching his back and pressing impossibly closer. His entire body is hot, his hand touching Louis’ skin and making him see stars. 

This time when the machine beeps, neither of them moves. Louis breathes with laboured lungs in the moment of reprieve he is given, Harry’s bottom lip still brushing his own. His hands are tightly knitted in his pretty shirt. 

“I hate fighting with you,” he mutters against his lips. 

“I love you,” Harry whispers brokenly. 

“How could you have thought I didn’t like this after everything?” Louis whispers. “Don’t you understand?”

Harry sighs, and leans away. Nora tentatively sticks her head into the booth, holding a string of photographs in her hand. “We’re all good,” she hastily says before ducking out again, clearly not wanting to be subjected to what is in the pictures in person. 

Harry untangles himself from Louis, and Louis unwillingly lets go of his shirt when he stands from the bench and starts heading out. Louis follows him, reaching for his elbow. 

“Harry,” he says, admittedly sounding fucking whiny. “How could you think that?” he asks when Harry stops, somewhere near the bathrooms. The lit sign are shining over his head, farther away.

“Because I know that you would do anything for me, Lou!” he exclaims, expression pained. His voice lowers significantly. “How can I not consider that this was one of them?”

Louis gives a small, rather offended sound. “I _love_ you, Harry, but I don’t put myself last on a list of priorities. I think you’d live if I had said no.”

Harry throws his hands out. “Then why didn’t you?”

Louis’ patience runs out. 

“Because I _wanted_ to do it!”

He stares at him, uncertainty flashing in his eyes. He keeps looking, something strange coming across his face as he fishmouths almost inconspicuously. “Really?” he asks. 

“What have I been telling you for the last few days?!” Louis sighs exasperatedly. 

Harry keeps staring, mouth ajar and bottom lip slightly jutted out. “Why did you say no to me on the yacht then…?” he whispers thickly. 

“Because we said we would lie and pretend as little as possible. Kissing when we weren’t meant to…” he struggles to explain without busting how feels. He needed to know it was mutual. His heart aches, because still Harry doesn’t understand that he is in love with him. 

Harry watches him for the longest of time, eyes entirely shiny. The silence stretches on. 

“Is it, really?” he asks then, eyes filled with tears. “Was any of it really pretending?”

Louis’ mouth falls open. His eyes widen, and his heart drops to his stomach. The butterflies shake out their wings and ascend. 

“Fuck,” Harry exhales, throwing his arm out in a waist-level, frustrated punch at nothing as he turns around, the tears falling down his cheeks. He hurries away. 

Louis stands there, gazing after him, eyes bulging out of his head. Did… Did that? Hold on. Was that? Oh. Did he? Did he really?

He beat Louis to it. The bastard. He almost laughs in shock. Dear. 

He bolts after him. Of course he does. He would never let him go.

He sees his shirt disappear between couples dancing between the bar and a few sitting tables, and rushes after him, swerving around the people in the way. He follows the mop of brown, luscious curls and the brightly coloured shirt that shines through the mass of generally dark fabric. When the space finally clears, Louis sees him heading toward the back exit, down a tiny hallway. There is not much time until he reaches the door, and Louis runs after him as fast as he can, feet loud against the floor. 

His head is swimming with options of what to say, but there is nothing that sticks. There is nothing huge, dramatic, or heartbreakingly beautiful that he could ever come up with, and that doesn’t matter at all. 

Harry wrenches the door open, disappearing out. Louis is only seconds behind. He catches him right outside. He slams into his back, wrapping his arms around his torso and pressing him back to his chest so forcefully they fall back against the door closed behind them. Louis keeps him there painfully hard, but Harry doesn’t make a move to get away. 

“Me, too,” Louis whispers against him. The metal door is cold against Louis’ shoulders, but Harry is so warm it consumes him. He presses his lips to his shirt.

Harry is completely still. 

Louis’ heart beats so hard and loud he thinks Harry can feel it against his back. His palms are gripping his chest, holding him so close he can’t breathe. He thinks he finally understands those songs where they swear to love someone for the rest of their life, no matter if it’s mutual or not. Louis will always love Harry. 

He breathes out against his back. 

“What did you say?” Harry croaks.

“Me, too, H,” he whispers. “Nothing. None of it. Ever.” Blood gushes through his veins so fast, almost as though he were an open wound, bleeding. _Bleeding love_. 

Everything flows out with the blood. All of it. 

“Nothing about it was a pretence. All of it is real. All of it was always real.” His eyes are wetting, and he sniffles. “I didn’t lie about being comfortable with you. I said no because it was too comfortable, too good. I was scared that it wasn’t mutual, and I just needed some space to breathe right then. Everything was so confusing considering the situation we’re in.” His breath shakes. “I was always going to tell you how I really feel.”

He swallows again, voice thick. He lifts his head, and his bottom lip brushes Harry’s neck as he speaks. 

“Harry — _the summertime, and butterflies, all belong to your creation_.”

He sags against him, head falling back and landing against Louis’ shoulder. 

“Are you sure?” he sniffles. 

“So fucking sure,” he whispers. 

“I love you, too,” Harry stutters out. He coughs, a small laugh escaping him as Louis smiles against his back. “So much.”

Louis’ cheeks hurt, and the sense of relief from finally getting all of this out feels like a huge, heavy cloud of thunder finally slipping away. His chest bubbles with soapy romance. He tightens his arms around the other boy’s chest, and he feels a large, warm hand clutch around his wrist in a hard grip. 

“You’re everything,” Harry whispers. “Everything to me. Are you really sure?”

Louis buries his nose in the curve of his neck. “You make me feel better than anyone has ever done. No one has ever made me feel the way you do. The night of the party was mind-blowing. All of it just clicks with you.”

“I want to be enough,” Harry sniffles. “I wanna be enough.”

“Harry,” Louis whispers, lips brushing his ear. He thinks he gets what he means now. “You’re more than. More than.”

Harry audibly blows his cheeks out, hands still tightly hugging Louis’ arms that are locked around him. Louis presses a soft kiss to clothed shoulder, and then another, and another. His heart is pounding, and his fingers would be shaking if it weren’t for Harry’s grip on his arms. He places a soft kiss to his jaw, and Harry moves until his nose is slotted with Louis’. 

“I hate fighting with you. I can barely believe the things I’ve said to you. I was really upset,” he swallows, “that you might have lied to me… mostly because I’m so fucking in love with you.”

“You get feisty when you’re angry and hurt. I know that,” he mumbles back. Their lips brush. “I’m so fucking in love with you, too, by the way.”

Harry chuckles, voice hitching, eyes watery. “I’m sorry for all the shit I said.”

Louis sighs, starting to gently sway them from side to side to keep some warmth. The darkness around them is chilly. “I’m sorry for making you believe the opposite of the truth. You deserve better than the way I handled that.”

Harry’s lips move against his as he speaks. Louis thinks his heartstrings are screaming for it. “I think I can forgive you.”

“What would you like me to do to make it up?” he hums quietly. Their lips are moving together already. 

“Maybe get me another penis mug.”

Louis cackles breathily against Harry’s mouth, surprise and zeal mixing inside his chest. He can feel him smiling against him, and he craves it. All he wants is to feel _that_. 

“Kiss,” he asks practically right into his mouth.

“Please, Lou,” Harry moans. With his arms tight around his best friend, he tilts his head and kisses him warmly, every fibre of his being sending vibrations throughout his body. He can feel cold tears on his cheek — Harry’s — and he holds him tighter, crushing him in his firm grip. Harry breathes stutteringly, kissing back with fervency, hands harder around Louis’ wrists. 

Their breathing hitch with small, broken inhales, lips moulding together in perfect synchronisation. Harry’s mouth is warm, and he tastes sweet, like himself. Louis kisses him deeper, tongue finding its way around his. His eyes are closed, and he is lost in the sensations surrounding him. This boy is everything.

Doing this, being with Harry this way when he knows it’s mutual, is a thousand times better than any of the previous moments of intimacy. There is no confusion, no hesitancy, no holding back. Louis kisses him as though his life depended on it, like his body is craving to be one with Harry. The younger, but taller boy pliantly moves with his will, kissing back with a desperation he hasn’t shown before. Enthusiasms in masses, yes, but never like this. It’s fuller now — it means something big. Louis wants to do all big things with Harry. 

He needs a moment of reprieve, and lets their mouths part with just a few centimetres of space. They exhale hotly against one another, eyes closed. Louis can feel Harry’s torso move with every breath, ribcage expanding and pressing back against his chest. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Harry whispers. “Right now I just want to be with you. Only you.”

Louis smiles against him, stroking his chest where the shirt is open. “Me, too, baby.” He lays a sweet kiss onto his lips, grinning into it. He can feel Harry smiling, too. “Do you need your stuff?”

“Let’s go and grab ‘em, and run out of here,” Harry says. He grabs the arm Louis was just about to remove. “And Lou,” he whispers. “Don’t let me go.”

Louis smiles, arms releasing Harry and fingers interlocking with his. “Not once,” he swears. 

The door opens when they knock, the guard on the inside recognising them of course and letting them in. The heat from inside warms their skin instantly, but Louis is starting to wonder if all the heat in the room is supplied by the look in Harry’s eyes. They never leave Louis, just like his hand refuses to let his go as they make their way through the room. They stop when they’re near the crowded bar, trying to get through, and Harry’s lips brush Louis’ ear. 

“I love you,” he mumbles, sucking a kiss to the spot under his ear. “I love you… Love… You.”

Louis turns around and kisses him, hands smoothing over his hips and grabbing his waist, pulling right in. Harry gasps, but only arches in close, whimpering against him. 

“I love you,” he whispers against his mouth, brows knitted and eyes filled with longing. 

“I love you,” Louis responds, hands sinking down to his bum, pressing him closer. 

“Woah, above the waist!” It’s Stan, followed by Luke and Cass. Louis turns, forcing himself to spend a moment of attention on someone other than Harry. Waste, honest to god. 

“Sup, lads. Enjoying the night?”

“S’brilliant, mate. Thanks for this,” Luke says, holding out a hand that Louis slaps. Harry remains in his arms, tucking himself close with a small, satisfied smile as he leans his head on Louis’ shoulder. 

“All thanks to Harry, honestly,” he says. “Listen, we’re about to head off, actually.” 

“Already?”

Louis squeezes Harry’s waist, a smile tugging on his lip. “Yeah, but we’re in London for a few days more. We should hang out, catch up for real.”

Stan eyes Harry for a moment, before his eyes alight on Louis again. He arches a brow. “Looks like we do. Is this the real deal? Elliott shit?”

Louis’ tummy flutters. “Better than that.”

“Congrats, pal. And good luck on the album, Harry. Already preordered it.” 

“Thanks, mate,” Harry answers, and only lets Louis go so he can hug his friends. 

Stan salutes them, and Louis starts manoeuvring them away through the crowds after giving his goodbyes. Harry’s hands are locked in Louis’, following behind his back as he finds his way through the party toward the front exit. He comes a stop at before the wide entry way, the guards there giving them a nod. Harry quickly texts Alberto to meet them, and then hooks his arms around Louis shoulders from behind.

“I want to be with you,” Harry whispers in his ear. “I want to be alone with you.”

Louis smiles, pulling at Harry’s hand until he has got the other boy in front of him. He grips his shirt and stands on his tiptoes, mouth against his and heart beating hard. There is a brightness inside him he hasn’t felt in so long “Me, too.”

“You’re gonna end up killing me with those two words.”

“Why does this feel so right?” Louis whispers, meeting Harry’s large eyes with wonder. “Nothing about this is… It’s easy… All of it just…” 

“We fit,” Harry explains. “We always just fit.”

Louis nods, eyes locked with his. God, they do. He feels like there is a giant light bulb in the middle of his body, warming him from the core to the very ends of his hairs, fingertips, toes. 

“We do. It’s always us.”

“Always us,” Harry repeats, breath warm and shaky, brushing over Louis’ lip. The way the tip of his nose nudges his own is the best feeling in the world. “Was always going to be us, right?”

Of course it was. 

“Always us,” Louis affirms. 

“Boys,” a voice says behind them, and they both jolt out of their private universe. Alberto is pointing a thumb toward the door, holding Harry’s jacket in the other hand. “I’m ready if you are. I got you a car waiting.”

Louis plants his mouth against Harry’s ear. “Let’s go.”

Harry has probably never walked faster in his life. Louis, hand in Harry’s firm grip, is laughing quietly as he pulls him with him out the door, Alberto keeping a hand near Harry’s back to guide him through the masses of fans and paparazzi outside. Fans try to get through to get fan pics, meanwhile the paps try to get a clear shot of them as they quickly hurry the short way down to the waiting vehicle. 

“Harry! Can we get a kiss for the camera?” 

Louis knows they can’t, because Jeff’s paper is supposed to have the exclusive rights for the first kiss pictures, but he can’t help but bring their intertwined fingers to his lips, giving the top of Harry’s hand a small peck. Harry glances back at him, and his entire face lights up like boy on Christmas. _I love you_ , he mouths before Alberto stows him inside the car, helping Louis in along with him. 

Snogging in a car is something they haven’t done before, but as soon as the paps are out of sight, Harry crushes his mouth against his. His lips are eager and soft as usual, and he makes every bone in Louis’ body feel like liquid. That thing flowers in him, his entire lower body tickling with that special sort of thrill. His knees feel weak. 

Harry’s hands tug on his hair, angling his head and trying get as close as possible. Louis’ lungs are getting laboured, and though he doesn’t mind it, everything is turning heated, more than it has ever been. 

“Mmmf,” Harry moans as his hands slip under Louis’ shirt, touching his stomach. Louis’ heart beats fast, nerves on edge, but it’s a good feeling. He hasn’t had anyone’s hands touching him this way in years, and as nervewrecking as it is it’s also comfortable, because it’s Harry. He’s perfect. Safe. He knows him so well. 

“Guys…”

Harry’s thigh is thick and warm under his hands. Getting tied up in him is a really inviting thought, and… 

“Boys! We’re at the hotel.”

Louis’ head snaps up. His eyes blink open as Harry moves away from where he had been practically caging him in as he leaned over him. He looks just as bewildered and distracted as Louis feels when the door on his side slides open, Alberto jumping out first from the seat in front to help them out. Louis blinks, and jumps out, Harry’s hands instantly shaping around him when his feet land on the curb.

“Hi there,” Harry says breezily to the fans still stationed outside, quickly stopping for a photo for one of the boys. He keeps his hand on Louis’ back as he briefly leans away, and then continues into the lobby, holding Louis close. The key card to their room sits in Louis’ back pocket, and Harry fishes it out without trouble when they finally reach their floor. 

The room is dark when they enter, smells vaguely like some sweet air freshener. Their beds have been made since they left, and the room has probably been cleaned as well. Louis kicks his sneakers off, watching Harry unzip his boots and place them by his suitcase. His hand instantly finds Louis’ waist once he’s done, pulling him with him toward the nearest bed. 

Harry sits down on the edge, Louis slowly stepping in between his knees. He smiles up at him sweetly, dimples peeking out. He looks soft, but playful; happy.

“Hi,” Louis whispers quietly, warm spreading all the way through him. 

“Hi,” he says back, eyes glowing.

“You’re really in love with me?” Louis asks, fingers gently squeezing his shoulders, watching him adoringly. 

Harry nods earnestly, eyes unblinkingly staring up into his. “Very much so, Lou.”

“How?” he whispers, smiling as he steps closer until Harry’s chin nudges his chest. “Am I really that lucky?”

“You? Lucky? If anyone, I’ve won the best prize in the world,” he murmurs. His hands rub Louis’ hips, gentle and warm, easy. Louis can do nothing but stare back at him, breathing slow, but heavy. They all said that Harry loves him, and he sort of figured that he might after the video, but… he knows it now. “Can I touch you here?” Harry whispers, hands gradually lowering from Louis’ hips. He nods, unable to keep his smile down at the way Harry’s eyes sparkle as he secures a solid grip around his bum, a grin growing on his lips. “You have no idea how long I’ve been dying to do that.”

“Such a gentleman,” Louis snickers. “Probably could have asked me, and I’d let you have a handful.”

“You would have slapped me in the nuts,” he protests, simultaneously giving him a squeeze that makes his stomach jump.

“I’ll slap you in the nuts right now.” 

Harry giggles. “I want a kiss on my mouth right now.”

Louis lifts a brow. “You’re a demanding thing even like this… Should have known.” 

Harry tilts his head back. “Kiss,” he hums, pouting his lips. Louis leans down and locks their lips together, the other boy instantly humming, entirely pleased. His hands tighten on Louis’ arse, bringing him closer until there isn’t much left for them to do than collapse on top of the bed. 

Legs slotted between one another, Harry’s head on the pillow, Louis kisses him. It’s languid, but earnest, growing with each passing moment. The darkness around them closes them in, and the feeling of Harry’s body moving under his own is magnificent. Their lips part for a hot second, Harry breathing sharply into his neck and tugging on his hair. Louis pushes his own curls away from his face, letting their noses align again before meeting him in another wet kiss. 

The urgency slowly builds, hot touches becoming more and more intimate. Louis’ fingers effortlessly unbutton Harry’s shirt, letting a hand smooth over the tense muscles. It’s easy to shove it off of him, the boy arching up to push Louis’ own t-shirt up his sides. They’ve never touched skin to skin, but Harry’s body is radiating heat, and it feels like sparks go off each time their skin connects. 

“Oh, Lou,” Harry exhales, gripping his arse firmly and pressing him closer. He bucks up significantly, rubbing up against him. A swooping sensation drop through Louis’ stomach, thrills flying up his spine as he feels Harry against him, his firm length pressing into his thigh. Harry stills, however, stopping their kiss and looking up at his with bulging, wide eyes. 

“Are you hard?” Harry whispers. His breath is shaking.

Louis looks down, even though he doesn’t need to. He knows that he is. He has had this feeling in his gut for a long time now, and it’s showing now. Louis doesn’t have to say it, because it’s self evident, isn’t it? He loves Harry.

Slowly he nods, placing a light hand on Harry’s bare waist. He tentatively strokes the skin there, watching him stare back in complete awe, mouth hanging open. Harry’s legs spread further, and Louis instinctively shifts on top of him, moving into fit in between his thighs. Harry inhales sharply, eyes shining as he pulls Louis down on top of him, kissing him with more heat than ever before. 

He moans, and the sound goes straight to Louis’ groin. He almost jolts against Harry, because he hasn’t felt that feeling in years. Fuck, he hasn’t been hard due to actual arousal in years. He has been feeling that thing in his stomach with Harry the last few weeks, but he didn’t know that it even had the potential to flower into something this huge. 

Sex is big. Sex is… monumental. Getting sexually aroused alone is fucking mind-blowing. And here he is with his best friend. Harry, beautiful, Harry and… This is right, because they fit. They fit, and everything is always easy with them, but… does that mean it’s right _right now_?

Harry is a virgin. In all kinds of ways. Nothing on his record. With anyone. 

Louis doesn’t do this often. He can count on his hands the number of times he has had sex. 

Harry is breathing with laboured lungs beneath his hand, staring up at Louis like he expects him to soon cure every disease in the world. His crotch is snug with Louis’, blinking up at him slowly and practically making love to him with his eyes already. He’s warm beneath him, his body soft and comfortable, his large hands stroking up and down Louis’ sides in tender movements.

“You’re so…” he breathes, eyelids fluttering when he arches up, pressing his cock to Louis’. It’s warm, and it’s absolutely lovely, but… there is something else shooting up Louis’ spine, and he knows exactly what it is, just like he knew what the flutter in stomach was long before he admitted it.

“H,” he whispers, petting his chest. Harry tightens his hands on him, fingers digging in under the line of his jeans at the side of his hips. Louis’ stomach jumps. “Harry.”

“Uh-huh,” he exhales, eyes shut and mouth ajar, ribcage expanding wildly.

“Harry, look at me,” Louis whispers. 

“Hm.”

Louis grips Harry’s wrists, and pushes his hands off of him. He crawls back just as Harry’s eyes snap open, eyes wide in surprise. He sits up before him, cheeks flushed, and hands already reaching for him, fingers clutching his arm. 

“I can’t do this, Harry,” Louis says. “ I’m —”

“Lou —”

“Harry, I can’t,” he says, firmer because it’s impossible now. “Not now. Not tonight.”

“It’s okay,” he instantly says as Louis completely untangles himself, pushing away. “Lou, it’s alright.”

“I don’t want to, Harry.” His heart beating like a drum. It’s humiliating, because… well. He’s not like everybody else, and in moments like this when it’s with someone he truly loves it finally bothers him. 

Harry’s voice is harder, and he pushes himself up properly. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I would never make you, and I don’t _want_ to do this unless you do, too. It works both ways. I don’t want it unless you do.”

Louis exhales hotly, and his heart beating so hard. His cheeks are burning, and there is something thick in his throat, or like a fist is clenching harder and harder around it. 

Just because he is comfortable with his sexuality and with who he is doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt when things like these happen. Especially with Harry, because what is he going to think now? His eyes are burning, because he fucked up again, didn’t he? What the hell is Harry thinking now? That he lied? That he always lied after all? He didn’t lie.

“I have to… Harry, I can’t do this now.”

“I know, and it’s fine, Lou,” he promises, something like desperation in his voice. He is looking at him like he doesn’t mind it even though he is still hard, straining against his jeans, button popped open. It is the most confusing thing Louis has ever witnessed. 

“I — I need to be alone.”

He stands from the bed, immediately tugging his jeans and boxers up his hips. He feels exposed as he looks around for his t-shirt, only able to find the patterned shirt Harry had worn tonight. He hastily grabs it, throwing it on in desperation to cover himself. 

Harry is right behind him, however, gripping his hands. He looks down at him sincerely, a pleading look in his eyes. Louis can’t meet them for long, though. The tears will drop, and he refuses to cry over something that isn’t his own fault. It’s stupid. Not worth crying over. 

“Stay, Lou,” he whispers, squeezing his hands. 

“I —”

“Please. Just stay with me, babe.” His thumbs stroke soothing circles over the top of his hands like Louis always does when Harry needs to calm down. Tears finally slip down his cheeks from the corners of his eyes, and his shoulders start quivering. Harry’s arms are around him instantly, holding him tightly against his chest.

“S’not you,” Louis manages to sob out against his warm shoulder, throat hurting. “It’s the…” He coughs. 

“Situation?” Harry finishes. He leans back just a bit, staring down at him with warm eyes. His gaze is steady, and there is nothing about him that looks upset. He is calm. Solid. Right there. His fingers brush Louis’ fringe out of his eyes. “I got lost in the moment, and I didn’t think. It was too much right away, and I know that. Just because we’re best friend doesn’t mean it doesn’t have to be right, yeah?”

Louis stares at him in wonder, completely taken aback. 

“We haven’t even discussed it, Lou. None of it. All of it happened just tonight, and there are things we still have to straighten out.” His thumb touches his cheek. “Not tonight, okay? Not now,” he whispers. 

Louis swallows thickly, drops of tears still in the corners of his eyes. 

Harry leans closer, and the very tip of his nose brushing Louis’. There’s a small smile in the corner of his lip. “And… because you like being prepared,” he hums. “And you like knowing beforehand that it’s going to happen. And working up to it is so important,” he whispers. “There’s no rush. Never is, and will never be any rush with me.”

Fucking _fuck_. 

Louis’ head falls to Harry’s shoulder, tears flowing freely down his face now. His shoulders shake as he sobs, sniffling quietly into the other boy’s bare skin. He’s so warm, and he can feel his heart beat against his own chest. 

“How are you _you_?” he mumbles, body lax against his. 

“Because you are you,” he replies quietly. “You’re… You are Olivia,” he finally says, “and I am some hopeless fool who can’t get your laugh out of my head. It’s stuck in there between my ears every day, along with your azure eyes and your smile, and just you. You’re you, so amazing and brilliant. You’re the best of you, so I can be the best of me. And vice versa. We’re good, Lou. We’ve always been good, and we’re always going to be.”

They stay silent, hugging tightly and swaying where they stand at the end of the bed. Louis doesn’t know for how long, or how to explain the pure gratitude he feels toward this beautiful, beautiful person that is holding him right now. 

He places a tiny kiss to the nearest spot he can reach. “Thank you.”

“I’m just a decent human being. You should never have to worry about anything like this.”

He shakes his head a fraction. “No, you’re just the best one there is.”

Harry inhales deeply through his nose. “I’m so in love with you, Louis. Nothing will ever change that.” He kisses the top of his head. “Let’s get you into some proper clothes, yeah?”

Louis nods, rubbing his face against him. “Your hoodie, please.”

“Don’t even have to ask.”

♡

It was always going to be them.

“Was always going to be us, right?” Louis asks two hours later. He is in boxers and sports socks, drowning in Harry’s green Packers hoodie, hair standing in every direction. No sex doesn’t necessarily mean no lazy snogging on the bed while drinking milkshake and eating chips.

“Now,” Harry says, chewing noisily on half of two chips, “in hindsight, because it’s been _so long_ since we got together.” He laughs cheekily at him, mouth full of food, making Louis grin right back. “It’s obvious. It was always going to be Louis and Harry. Always, always us.”

“Louis and Harry Tomlinson,” Louis nods, sipping from his shake. “Sounds about right.”

Harry knocks his shoulder into his, smirking. Louis chuckles, dipping down to kiss his grease covered mouth. “Mmm,” he hums. “Always us.”

“Pinkie promise?” Harry holds out his little finger. 

Louis hooks it with his own, smiling at the dimpled kid. “Pinkie promise.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya loves!
> 
> This is unfortunately the last update of California Sold, two parts: the last chapter plus a short epilogue. 
> 
> I can't begin to say thank you for how amazing the support has been throughout this entire process. Every message and comment I've received have been so incredibly kind, and I've sat reading the things you've got to say with awe, completely overwhelmed. I can't thank you for your support enough.
> 
> As I tweeted yesterday, sharing this with you have been the best, and I don't think I've ever been this sad to end a story before. It's without a doubt my best writing experience within this fandom. It's been so interesting and cool to write from Louis' perspective as a character who is demisexual, and I have learned a lot from it. I have done my very best portray him and his sexuality accurately and I've tried so hard to do him justice. As I said in the preface of this story, feel free to come to me with thoughts or opinions on my characterisation if you identify as demi or on the asexual spectrum. 
> 
> Thank you again for being so lovely and kind to me. I'm genuinely sad to say goodbye to this universe. This story has meant a lot to me, and it's been fucking awesome! Take care everyone, and lots of love!!!!!!!! <3
> 
> tumblr: [isthatyoularry](http://isthatyoularry.tumblr.com/)  
> twitter: [isthatyoularry](https://twitter.com/isthatyoularry)

Sleeping in is wonderful. 

Sleeping in with Harry’s warm body in his arms is even better. 

Sleeping in with Harry’s warm body in his arms and sharing lazy kisses is the best.

With his nose slotted with Louis’, cheeks touching, lips easily moulding in unison, Harry nibbles on Louis’ top lip. Fingers linked between their chests, Louis’ free hand falls over Harry’s waist, exploring the expanse of his naked back. He can feel how his skin prickles, and how his stomach jumps when he reaches the place just beneath his ribs where he’s ticklish. He is the softest. 

“I love you,” Harry whispers, placing another sweet, sweet kiss to his mouth. “Love you,” he exhales, moving in to give a second one to his chin. “Love you.” He gently presses another to the corner of his mouth. 

Louis inhales quietly, humming sleepily as he feels his lips attach to the skin beneath his jaw. His lips are soft and plump, silent and light. 

“I…” Harry murmurs, “love you.” 

Louis’ hand flattens out against his spine. He pushes him closer so their stomachs rub, their laced fingers jammed between their chests. He once again lets his hand trace over his skin, sliding over every softness, blemish, or knot. Harry could do with a proper massage… he breezily mulls over, pressing two fingers into a spot in his back where stress has gotten to him. Harry grunts in slight discomfort under the pressure of his hand. 

Louis shuffles down slightly, burrowing into the curve of the younger boy’s shoulder. “I love you,” he breathes. “Very much…”

“Love you, a lot.” His hand sinks into the hair at the nape of Louis’ neck, tenderly tugging on a few strands. “You smell good.”

Louis giggles into his neck. “You’re lying,” he whispers slowly, and sucks a bitey kiss into his throat. He briefly considers leaving a mark there. 

“You smell like booze and cigarettes, yes,” Harry grins, humming, “but also like your cologne, and my perfume that you always steal even though we’re fighting.”

Louis’ eyes widen just a bit. “You don’t know about that…!”

“I’ve always known about that, Lou.”

“No,” he groans. He has been stealing his perfumes since he was sixteen. “You don’t know about that.”

“Okay… I don’t.”

Louis leans up and reattaches their lips, eyelids fluttering as Harry’s candied lips wrap around his, tongue poking at his mouth. 

“Haven’t even brushed your teeth…” He doesn’t move away. Harry sucks another soft one to his lips. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, a smug smile playing on his face. 

“Did I say you were allowed to quit snogging me?” 

“No, you didn’t…” He gets a French kiss this time, and he instantly falls into it, inhaling through his nose as Harry’s hand tightens on his neck. 

There are five hard knocks on the door. 

Sleeping in has made them late. 

Louis’ eyes open in shock, Harry’s surprised eyes staring right back at him. 

“What time is it?” Harry asks. Louis only looks at him uncertainly. 

There are three additional knocks on their door. “Guys!” calls Jack’s voice. “Wake up! Or I’m coming in! You’re _thirty_ minutes late.”

It takes Louis a second to remember, but when he does he shoots up into a sitting position. Harry is already a mess tangled in the sheets, reaching for his phone. They’re meant be papped at a nearby café for breakfast, and the photographer for Jeff’s magazine is surely already there waiting. 

Louis reaches for the nearest pair of black jeans, which turn out to be his own, and jumps into them quickly. He is still in Harry’s Packers hoodie since falling asleep in it, and he leaves it on. “Where are my bloody shoes?” he grunts, frantically searching between their suitcases. His hair is standing on end, and he is sure his face is swollen with sleep. He picks up a pink flowery blouse, and tosses it over his shoulder on a quest to find something he can walk outside with on his feet.

“Shoes!” Harry drops two black Vans in front of him, and Louis squawks in victory. He can see Harry’s own feet in neon yellow trainers as he straightens up and shoves his bare ones into the Vans, but before he knows it his mouth is attached to Harry’s. It’s not a deep kiss, but it lasts long enough for his knees to feel week.

“Mm-hmm — Harry, we’re so late…”

“Mmm,” he hums, sucking on his bottom lip. “I know…”

Louis sighs, and then Harry is pushing him to the closest wall, caging him in. There’s no urgency with their kisses, but it’s languid and grows deep. Tired morning snog sessions with Harry are the best. If this is how the first real day of being Harry’s boyfriend starts out, then Louis can’t wait for the future. 

Jack pounds his fist into the door. “Get out! Get out _now_.”

“Ugh,” Harry groans, letting a breath out against Louis’ mouth. “Sorry! We’re coming!” He moves a step back and takes Louis’ hand, starting toward the door. Louis digs his heels into the carpet. 

“Mouthwash first.”

Harry opens the hotel room door, finding Jack there with crossed arms and a sour look, Alberto loitering in the background. Harry holds up a finger. “One second.”

Louis brushes his teeth quicker than ever, gargling mouthwash as Harry does the same. When he is finished he winds his arms around Harry from behind, hugging him tightly toward himself. He is wearing a grey knitted jumper, rolled up his wrists, and he has thrown his wild curls into bun. Not touching him is impossible. 

“How can you be this late? You were supposed to be there by now,” Jack sighs from the doorway into the bathroom. “Come on, boys. Hurry now.” Harry spits the mouthwash out, leaning back into Louis’ arms. His grip tightens around his torso. Jack stares at them with wide, annoyed eyes. He makes a large, sweeping gesture toward the door. “ _Out_.”

They make it into the lift before Louis can’t take it anymore and places a kiss to Harry’s shoulder, snuggling into his side. Harry instantly laces his arms around him, holding him to himself in a comfortable grip. Alberto doesn’t say anything, meanwhile Jack looks away and clears his throat. Louis has no idea if he is aware that their feelings for each other are real or not. 

The lift doors open as they descend in the lobby, and Harry instantly takes Louis’ hand as they stroll out. There are considerably less fans outside than the previous days, but Jack and Alberto start toward the front desk where a middle aged woman is waiting. She instantly leads them into the corridor starting at the end of the desk, eventually presenting them with a back door. 

“Remember the kisses!” Jack calls as they exit hand in hand with Alberto. Louis doubts they’ll forget.

The weather is surprisingly warm for a morning like this. Harry pops a pair of sunnies onto his nose that he seems to have managed to bring with him, and swings their hands between them as they stroll out on the pavement some hundred metres from the hotel’s front entrance. They seem to get away with it. 

“How’re you feeling today?” Harry asks him as they near the café. He squeezes his hand. “Any regrets?”

Louis snorts. “Did it seem like I was second guessing anything when you woke me up this morning?”

He shakes his head gently. “Nah, I was just thinking we could talk.”

They reach the place the photographer is waiting at, probably currently sitting in the silvery car parked at the curb if the camera the man in there is holding is anything to go by. 

The café — the staff apparently having been told they would be here — have saved a seat for them on the terrace outside. It’s a rather quaint place, similar to the restaurant they had brunch with Harry’s family at in Los Angeles. There’s a sofa placed against the glass wall by the entrance, along with a coffee table and two large armchairs on the other side. There is a large sunshade extended from the windows over their heads, and there are several blankets perched on the edge of the sofa in case anyone gets cold. It’s cosy, not too crowded, but there is certainly a big chance of being spotted by fans, and the pap will get excellent shots. 

They sit down on the sofa, Alberto in one of the armchairs across the table. The pap seems to be positioning himself in the car, but Louis decides not to be bothered by him. He’s a fair distance away anyhow. Harry pushes his aviators up into his hair, righting his knitted jumper at his shoulder, meanwhile Louis pulls at his loose black jeans. While Harry looks like a soft superstar on a lazy morning, Louis is sure his hair is anything but pretty, and his face probably has a pillow mark or two. 

The waitress that takes their order is a woman Louis’ age. She’s a bit jittery, but sweet, and she doesn’t stop herself from gushing about Harry’s new album. Louis reckons Harry will get an update on how it’s doing during the day, but with everything he has been going through this week the ratings meetings have moved to the other boys’ plates. Surely, this breakfast paparazzi date counts as promotion. 

“Congrats, Harry.” The waitress smiles before heading off to fetch their order. “On everything!”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he grins as she struts away, ponytail swaying. Louis smiles and turns to face him, stroking his arm.

“You wanted to talk?”

“I did.”

“About…?”

“Us, of course,” he says, extending a hand to brush Louis’ fringe out of his eyes. Louis’ stomach growls, making him chuckle while Louis rolls his eyes. It’s morning and he is hungry, alright? “We are still on the same page?”

“Pinkie promised, didn’t I?” Louis takes his hand in his, and holds it up to his face. He places a small kiss to his knuckles. “It was always going to be us, babe. Henceforth I want to be your boyfriend, always. And I risk sounding like a lovesick teenager saying this, but I want to be your boyfriend till the day I get to call you my fiancé, and then my husband.”

Harry smiles at him, eyes warm and dimples deep in his cherubic cheeks. “I’m gonna marry you one day, just so you know.”

“Are you gonna be a Tommo then? Or still the rock star Styles?”

Harry grins, hooking their ankles under the table. “Maybe I can be both…” He leans closer until their chins are touching. “Our babies will be Tommos, though.”

“Are we having kids already?”

“As soon as possible,” Harry jokes, and gives him a peck on the lips, their mouths giving away a small sound. Louis tucks one of the loose tendrils from Harry’s hair behind his ear, lightly tugging at his little earlobe. Harry watches him back through squinted eyes, thumb coming up to touch the scruff growing along his jaw and around his mouth. “I like this.”

“My beard?”

“Yeah… It will be softer in a couple days, too. My skin’s all sensitive from all the snogging we’ve been doing since yesterday.” He grins, looking entirely pleased about it. 

Louis doesn’t get a word in before their breakfast arrives, carried by two waitresses. There’s an iced latte for Louis, along with his quiche that smells wonderful. There’s tea and coffee for Harry and Alberto, and their sandwiches are generously filled and large. Louis already knows that Harry is going to eat at least a third of his quiche. 

They thank the ladies profusely, and it doesn’t take long before they dig in, Harry taking about two minutes before he snakes Louis’ fork from his hand to taste his meal. Louis should start timing him. They make quiet conversation with Alberto as they eat, and it’s surprisingly easy to forget that there’s a man with a camera currently immortalising every moment. 

“When did you know you love me?” Harry asks quietly, taking a swig of his hot tea. He looks at Louis as he cradles his cup. His ankles around his tighten their hold as though the question makes him nervous. 

“Probably around New York,” he says softly, stroking his bicep. “I wanted to kiss you, which I did in the park. I realised that it was really real. All of it.”

Harry nods. “That kiss made me really think you love me back. The one in the park.”

“You were right.” He squeezes his arm, thumb brushing over the jumper. “So, when did you realise…?”

Harry takes a bite of his sandwich, chewing as he says, “Probably about two and half years ago.”

“Years?!” Louis’ mouth falls open, surprise taking over his entire face. Two and a half years ago. Years. “You were… you were in love with me during our road trip through Florida?” he whispers. 

Harry put his food down and nods, meeting his eyes. “I mean, I _think_ so,” he says quietly. “I never really said it to myself explicitly that that was what I was feeling. It was there, somewhere, but I never really mulled it over. I figured eventually, though.”

Louis’ hand finds Harry’s on its own, and their fingers lace as he frowns. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Our friendship is _so_ perfect, Lou. I never let myself contemplate telling you I’d been sort of thinking of you as more than a friend. We didn’t see each other too often, so I just didn’t think about it much. But then you came to America… We’ve spent three months together in each other’s space, and I haven’t been able to help myself.”

Louis swallows. “How did you figure you had feelings for me?” 

Harry glances at him for a moment, looking a bit uncomfortable. “After you broke up with Elliot I just… I guess I started feeling something for you? It might be selfish of me to say this, but I never understood that I was jealous of him until you broke up, and I was…” He looks away as though he is ashamed. “You’re gonna hate me, because I know you loved him, but I was _relieved_. Don’t get me wrong, I was genuinely sad that you were hurting, but I didn’t get that it was jealousy I had felt until then. I simply figured that it was just that I missed you ‘cause I was away.”

Louis takes a moment to process this new information. He reaches out and lifts his coffee cup, taking a quiet sip. He sighs, putting it pack, speaking slowly. “If you had told me back then that you felt relieved he was gone, I probably would have given you a hook in the chin, mate. But as it is now… I can’t say I really care. You couldn’t help the way you felt, and you weren’t even home at the time. It’s not a big deal.”

“Are you sure?” he wonders. “I’ve been feeling sort of guilty, I guess.”

Louis tugs at his hand until Harry’s face is only centimetres away. “I don’t give a fuck, love.” Harry starts to smile, nodding to show that he understands. Out of curiosity, Louis asks. “Did the lads know how you felt? Or about us in general?”

Harry takes another sip from his tea, nodding. “Well, Liam knew because he simply figured it out while we were on tour that same year, and I was sort of miserable missing you. I guess Zayn has just known and didn’t say anything? He just knew,” Harry shrugs. “Niall is, you know… he’s happy, I guess.”

Louis smiles. “Niall just figured we were together when he walked in on us at your party. He thought we had figured everything out by then. It was obvious he said.”

“It _should_ have been obvious. I should have told you, but I thought that because everything was always so easy we would just slowly walk into it ourselves, which we kind of did. But then you said _that_ and I got really insecure, and it… yeah, it fucking hurt to hear you say you were uncomfortable.”

“I was never uncomfortable in that way, H.”

“No, but it’s — You shouldn’t have to defend yourself that way. You shouldn’t have to promise me you were fine, because it’s okay if you weren’t with me. My head just went crazy that day because I thought you were in love with me, and that made me think you weren’t after all. I was sad, and confused — I’m not trying to defend myself here. Promise.”

“It’s alright. We don’t need to go over this part, love.”

“But I think we do?” Harry says seriously. “I think it’s important that I tell you that I was never angry with you for not wanting to kiss me, I was only angry that you lied. Which I thought you had been doing.”

Louis nods. “I know, and like I’ve said, I never lied. I was worried it wasn’t mutual, and that’s what made me hesitant.”

“I understand that.”

“On another topic, though,” he says slowly. “I think… I think I clung to the fact that I’m demi, and I never saw us as an option until we started being intimate with each other. It was very confusing, it’s like… What if I hadn’t been so uptight with my sexuality — would we have together a long time ago?”

Harry shakes his head. “I don’t think that is something worth speculating about, Lou.”

He might be right, and he might not be, but in the end they are together now, so, it doesn’t matter. If he wants to he can think about that later, but it has no effect on their relationship anymore. Louis cuddles closer to Harry until their bodies are snug and their thighs are aligning, torsos turned into one another. 

“I’m not ashamed to say that I’m happy that first stunt failed spectacularly.”

Harry chuckles. “Me, neither.” He gives Louis a soft kiss on his cheekbone. “Being your fake boyfriend has been a pleasure, but I think I’m going to _love_ being your real one.”

“What happens to our fake break up?” Louis asks, frowning. 

“I think we’re just gonna _not_ do that,” Harry grins, and Louis laughs, nodding agreeingly. “This is going to be fun, Lou,” he whispers to his cheek. “I can’t wait for everything that’s to come with you. Being your real boyfriend will be a proper honour.”

“Stop…” Louis says, ticking his head to the side. “You’re too much. I’m just as excited as you are, babe.”

Harry doesn’t wait until he leans in and kisses him, easy and slow. Louis’ chest fills with air through his nose, heart pumping warm blood throughout his entire body. He wonders if he will always feel this way when he kisses Harry.

He leans away after a few minutes, beginning to feel a bad for Alberto who has probably caught an earful of their conversation here and there. Louis has never thought a job that a lot of the time simply entails waiting around for people would be that fun, but when you’re also third-wheeling what is practically a date… Well. Sorry, Berto. 

Harry places his hand on Louis’ knee, using the other to snack on his sandwich. They have barely been eating anything since they started talking, too wound up in their conversation to remember to get their breakfast down. Louis sips from his coffee, and coincidentally looks straight into the camera held by the pap at the curb. He looks away quickly, and pulls the hoodie over his head. He isn’t looking his best today, and he wouldn’t care if it weren’t for the important conversation they are having right now. He doesn’t want people to see how he looked while he was speaking about the subject he is about to broach.

“Do you want to talk about last night…?” he says quietly. He sets his coffee down and leans into Harry, turning his body completely to face him. “Because I want to.”

Harry lets go of what is left of his sandwich, lifting his head to face Louis as he wipes his hand on a napkin. “Yeah?”

“I want to explain to you why everything turned out the way it did, okay?” He takes the hand Harry has placed on his knee, and cradles it between his hands as he speaks. It’s comforting, tracing his fingers and knuckles. Harry sits up properly, moving in closer so they can keep the conversation quietly private.

“Last night was brilliant in a lot of ways, let me just say that,” he starts. “But… while it was happening I starting thinking, especially about it being your first time.” He looks at him seriously. “I really want that to be perfect for you. I want it to be right, and I want our first time together to be right. We had been drinking last night, and everything had just been solved between us. I got really nervous very quickly, and when I tried to slow it down… you were kind of into it, lost in the moment,” he chuckles, cheeks warm. “You didn’t really hear me, and it got me stressed. Even though I was hard and stuff, I got stressed and it riled me up. I probably wouldn’t have cried if I hadn’t gotten so wound up, but…” He rolls his eyes. “But, yeah. I just wanted to make it clear, now that we’re totally sober and have had some space since.”

Harry’s finger rubs Louis’ hand. His green eyes are close and earnest as he speaks. “I get it, Lou, I do. And I’m sorry. I got lost in it, in you. I’ve been crazy about you, and I let myself kind of lose a bit of reality. I should have considered the situation, and not just been so, frankly, embarrassingly into it. I should have remember that it doesn’t happen like in movies and stuff… especially since you’re demi.” 

Louis glances at him, biting his lip. “… do you wish I weren’t?” 

“Fuck, _no_.” He shakes his head vigorously, hands leaving Louis’ grip and clutching around his wrists instead. “Lou, if you weren’t demi then you wouldn’t be _you_. I love you because of everything you are. Because of all the little parts. All of them make you into who you are, and without being demi you wouldn’t be _this… My_ Louis.”

Louis smiles bashfully into his lap, cheeks feeling warmer and warmer. “Jeez,” he mutters, and snatches Harry’s aviators off of his head, perching them on his own nose. He’ll be damned if the whole world get high quality candids of him looking like a lovestruck loon.

Harry laughs. “But… we are learning right?” he asks. “We’ll get better at this.”

“We are,” Louis nods, grinning at him with genuine happiness bubbling inside. Harry pulls him to himself, lacing an arm around his shoulders as they cuddle back into the sofa. Louis strokes Harry’s jumper, knitting his fingers into the soft material with a soft sigh.

“Plus, come to think of it, we don’t even have condoms or lube,” Harry snorts. “I didn’t bring any from L.A. and you don’t carry those things around, do you?”

Louis looks at him with an arched brow. “You keep condoms in Los Angeles?”

Harry blushes. “I have some, for some reason. Never used them, though.”

“You know condoms have expiration dates?”

Harry laughs quietly. “Yes, I do.”

Louis inhales through his nose, smiling as he bites his lip, glancing down at Harry’s lips. “Maybe you’ll have to buy some new ones when we get up north…”

Harry stares at him. “Really?”

He shrugs. “Maybe.” He leans in the slightest bit to give the boy a lingering kiss. Harry’s hand instantly flattens against the back of his shoulder, holding him close.

“You know we can wait, yeah?” he hums. “Just because we’ve been best friends don’t mean we can’t get used to being a couple first.”

Louis meets his eyes through the shades. “Are you nervous?”

He swallows, and slowly lifts a finger to gently remove the sunglasses from Louis’ face so he can look at him properly. “I mean, _yeah_ , but mostly I’m just looking forward to being that intimate with you. Not just physically, but emotionally, too. I know sex means so much to you, and it’s an honour that you even consider it with me. I want to be someone you trust.”

“I do trust you,” Louis hums, promising it. He lets his hand land on his thigh between them, stroking upward. “And you know… it doesn’t have to be all of it right away. We can start slow.” He squeezes his leg. 

“Yeah?” Harry breathes. 

Louis nods. 

His lungs expand a little faster against Louis’ side. “Does sex have to be, like, slow for you?”

Louis laughs into his shoulder. “No.”

“So…” Harry says tentatively, pupils round as he glances down at Louis’ lips, licking over his own. “If I, like, press you into the wall and stuff, and kiss you super passionately with your legs around my waist…?”

“Is that how you imagine it?” he whispers, stomach feeling light and fluttery. “Is that your big fantasy?” 

The younger boy blushes furiously, glancing away. “Perhaps crossed my mind once or twice.”

“H.” Louis grins, warmth spreading from head to toe. He reaches up and cups his cheek with one hand, angling his face into his own. 

Harry looks up at him through his pretty lashes. “Yeah?”

“You don’t have to treat me like a feather,” he says. “I just have to trust that you won’t blow me away.”

Harry slowly, slowly nods, and their lips meet in the softest of kisses. It’s the best feeling in the world; Harry’s nose sliding against his own, the tips brushing as they change angle, the bridges slotting when they find a comfortable pace. 

“Does that fantasy of yours entail me and you having sex against that wall?” he whispers teasingly against his mouth. 

“We have to stop talking about this.” Harry flushes, cheeks pink and skin hot. Louis giggles, placing a little kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

“I love you so much, baby.”

“I love you, too.” Harry presses forehead against Louis’. “I really do.”

♡

The sound of the highway and cars is almost blocked out by the stereo. The boot is loaded up with all of Louis’ bags from America, including the new ones Harry packed for himself when they checked in on his London house.

“ _Say what you’re feeling and say it now, ‘cause I got the feeling you’re walking out! And time is irrelevant when I’ve not been seeing you. The consequences of falling out are something I’m having nightmares about, and these are the reasons I’m crying out to be with you!_ ”

Louis takes a drag of the joint he is nursing, kissing Harry’s hand and giggling into his palm. Harry is singing along to his band’s song on the top of his lungs, Louis joining in whenever he remembers the fast lyrics. He takes a deep breath and yells,

“ _Please believe me, don’t you see the things you mean to me? OH, I love you, I love you. I love, I love, I love Olivia!_ ”

The car smells like weed, and Louis’ feet are bare and have dirty marks from his shoes, resting on top of the dashboard. Harry has tried to make him move them three times, but gave up after Louis started kissing his neck while he was already trying to juggle driving, singing, and eating sweets at the same time.

“ _I live for you, I long for you, Olivia. I’ve been idolising the light in your eyes, Olivia. I live for you, I long for you, Olivia! Don’t let me go! Don’t let me go!_ ”

Harry takes his eyes off the road, grinning at Louis with bright eyes. He squeezes Louis’ fingers between his own, Louis smiling back with the joint between his fingers, happiness buzzing through his fingertips. 

“ _When you go and I’m alone, you live in my imagination. The summertime, and butterflies, all belong to your creation. I love you, it’s all I do, I love you…!_ ” 

Louis squirms around in his seat until he is standing on knees, and sucks kiss to Harry’s neck. His skin tastes a bit salty from the warmth in the car, smelling like apples and _Harry_. 

“I’m driving! Lou!”

“And I’m in love with you,” he smiles zealously, dragging his teeth along his skin. He feels Harry reach out and grab his elbow, keeping him from getting the almost finished joint too close as he attends to his work. 

“You’re gonna ruin me, baby. Don’t you know?”

“Yes, I know.” He gives his neck a last sucking kiss, slumping back in his seat, curled up with his feet on Harry’s thigh.

“Are we gonna tell them?” Harry asks. “Right away?”

“Yes,” Louis nods seriously. He thinks his arm is shimmering, like dragon skin. He wriggles his toes. “At dinner.”

“You’re high, Lou,” Harry giggles, shoulders shaking. “You’re still gonna feel this by the time we’re home. It’s just an hour away, babe.”

“Mum will be _mad_ ,” he giggles. “Robin will take my side. Maybe Dan. Depends.”

“On?”

“If he wants to live or not.”

Harry throws his head back and cackles. “Sure you want to announce our imminent marriage when you’re still feeling stoned?”

Louis digs his toes into Harry’s thigh. “I’m gonna… say it _twice_.” He finishes the joint and presses the button that opens the window, throwing it out. The wind ruffles Harry’s hair, his curls flying back from his face. 

“You’re fucking beautiful… you know that?”

Harry smiles, staring ahead at the road as he shakes his head. “We need to sober you up.”

“No,” he sighs. “My high’s so good right now. Don’t ruin it.”

“Jeez, you make me wanna get in on that.”

“Your turn when we drive back…?” 

Harry laughs, hand rubbing Louis’ ankle. “You’re staying in Manchester, love… Who is gonna drive me home?”

Louis stares down at his feet on Harry’s lap. “Miss you. Already.”

“Me, too, babe.”

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna close my eyes for a bit.”

“Close the window first, will you.”

He presses the right button after two tries, and snuggles up in the seat, feet on Harry’s thighs. The feeling of Harry running his fingertips across his skin, circling every bone around his ankle, brushing the arch above his heel, is what eventually lulls his haze into real sleep. 

“Lou,” Harry whispers what feels like two days later. Louis blinks languidly, body feeling heavy and warm. When his sight comes into focus, he is met with Harry’s nose a centimetre from his own. “Hi.”

Louis wraps his arms tightly around his neck, pulling him as close as possible. Harry, leaning over the gearbox, squeaks as he is tugged into a warm kiss. He giggles into him, grinning softly when Louis lets him go. 

“The car smells like weed.”

“Yes, it does,” Harry nods. “So do you.”

“Kiss me.”

“We’re home, Lou. Here, drink this.” He picks up a bottle of water from a plastic case on the floor, one they bought before heading out in the road that same morning. 

Louis takes it, swallowing down a large sip as he lazily glances around for his shoes. “Where are me Vans?”

“On your feet. We’ve been parked for a few minutes, babe.” He grins at him for a moment. “Your eyes are all glazed over. Mum’s gonna sniff you out.”

“Well, I’ll just tell her who rolled me blunts for me.”

“Don’t you dare.” Harry pinches his arm. 

“Who knew you stash pot in Tupperware in your London house,” Louis cackles. “I might just move in.” Harry grins, but then his smile fades out as he stares at Louis for a long moment, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. “What?”

“Nothing,” he murmurs. “Finish your water, and we’ll go in. Mum texted, said Robin’s at it with the grill. Everyone’s out on the terrace.” Louis nods, and starts shuffling in his seat until his feet are on the floor. He opens the door, but Harry’s hand lands on his arm. “Change your shirt. Please?” 

He grumbles, but agrees it might be a good idea. Harry reaches back into the backseat and unzips the nearest bag, fetching out a simple white t-shirt with a print. Louis quickly changes into it, before finally jumping out and setting feet on the ground. 

Home. Manchester.

He strolls around the car, stretching his limbs before linking his hand with Harry’s, and starts toward the path that leads around the house to the back terrace. Harry tugs on his hand, not letting him get too far. 

“What?” he asks. “Everyone’s waiting, babes.”

Harry steps in closer, so close that their tummies rub when they exhale. “I love you,” he whispers, placing the tiniest of kisses to his lips. Louis’ hands instantly hug his hips, holding him closer. 

“I love you,” he hums back. It’s been a couple of days and it doesn’t wear off. He is going to be saying those short three words to that same boy for the rest of his life. 

Harry slowly deepens the kiss, arms winding around Louis’ neck and back arching as he presses himself into him. Louis’ fingers rub against his sides, finally settling in a grip around his arse. He can feel him breathe out through his nose, humming almost inaudibly in complete comfort. 

“I’m so happy,” Harry whispers into his neck. Louis can’t help the smile on his face that stretches wide and big. “I want you in my bed tonight,” he says into Louis’ ear. “Not across the street.”

“I’m happy to conform to your wishes, sir,” he grins into his hair, giving his bum a squeeze. He really, really likes his peachy little thing; he has come to that conclusion over the last few days. Harry giggles, and purses his lips for a last kiss. Louis gives him a soft one, letting his hands move from Harry’s bum to his waist. He presses his thumbs into the spot beneath his ribs. 

“Are we really going tell everyone right now?” whispers Harry. 

“Yes,” Louis nods slowly. “Of course. Are you nervous?”

“Not exactly… Just, excited. This is all real now. Not a fantasy in my head.”

Louis’ head feels a bit soary. “You thought about this stuff?” 

“Not quite. Seems a bit unbelievable, though,” he smiles. “You and me like this after twenty years of…”

“Not being like this?” Louis teases. 

“Dickhead,” Harry grins, kissing his lips once. “Okay. I’m ready. Let’s go.”

They stroll along the stone path that leads around the house, along the green hedge that frames the large backyard. Neither of their families ever struggled with money, it’s a nice neighbourhood, but it’s clear some renovations to Harry’s childhood home has been made over the years since his income shot through the roof. Generous boy, indeed. 

The terrace stretches around the corner of the house, but spreads out on the other side until the wood meets the stone path that meets soft, green grass. The sun is still warm, and as they round the corner the image that greets them is picturesque. The sun, on the way down, is painting an almost orange setting. The food is already set on the table, wine glasses, water and fizzy drinks, too. Gemma is standing by the door into the house, red wine in her glass, meanwhile Robin’s at the grill flipping meat, Fizzy and Dan by his side, talking quietly. Louis can smell the food, and with everybody in the house it feels like summer. The real kind, not like Los Angeles. This is home. 

The first one to notice them is Anne. She ambles out through the terrace door, carrying a salad bowl, and she squawks loudly. “Oh! I thought I heard a car! My darlings!” 

She sets the bowl down on the nearest surface, and meanwhile the rest of the family nearby turns around, Louis smiles, taking a few quick steps onto terrace and embraces her tightly. It’s only been a couple days since he saw her, but with him and Harry settling into something new he feels exhilarated with happiness. 

He hugs his own family the tightest. He hasn’t seen them for such a long time, and since then so much has changed. His mum comes running out the door, and she’s got Harry, who has closest, cradled in her arms within seconds. 

Louis shakes his head, rolling his eyes at Dan who wraps an arm around his shoulders. “She’s been worrying about him for weeks. She was so excited about the pictures from the album party, said you looked like proper gentlemen,” he chuckles. “She’s framed a screencap off the video, too. Lottie helped her.”

“Jesus Christ,” Louis sighs, but starts grinning as Jay finally comes skipping, throwing her arms around her son. 

“Louis!” She pats his head, guiding him into her shoulder as though he were still a child. “Oh, my favourite boy.”

“Hi, Mum,” he hums, grinning into her neck. His eyelids still feel heavy.

“I’m so proud of you for being such a good friend. You’re such a good boy, Lou.” She sighs, thumb rubbing his neck. “I missed you, lovey. I’m so proud of you for being you, with all these people paying attention.”

He strokes her back, giggling. “You raised me, didn’t you?”

She grins. He can hear it. “Some things come from your own heart, Lou.”

“Oh, wow, Mum. Sentimental much?

She wrinkles her nose at him for a moment. “Lou, what’s that smell —”

“Dickhead!” He looks up to find Lottie and her green mermaid hair pointing at him. He grins, letting his mum go.

“Lottie!” he calls, hurrying away. He wraps her up in a large embrace. She squeezes him firmly around the waist, burrowing into his chest. 

“You didn’t text me! And your hair smells like marijuana!”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you.”

“Tell me? Lou, how did it go?” she hisses. 

“Phoebe!” he calls. After that it’s simply hugs and more hugs. Fizzy has only gotten prettier over the summer with her sun bleached hair, Phoebe and Daisy have grown at least a few centimetres, and the little toddlers are… in Harry’s lap, naturally. 

He has sat down on the steps of the terrace, summer sunset shining behind him, and he has one ginger girl on his lap, a blonde long-haired little lad behind him, hanging over his shoulder. How in the world did Louis not understand that it’s proper love he feels when he looks at him? He isn’t sure if he is imaging the heart-shaped bubbles that ascend around him. 

“Everybody! Gather ‘round,” Anne calls. “Dinner’s ready.”

The large table fills up in seconds. Their two families are eaters, and there can never be too much on the table. It’s consumed, and that’s fast. Louis sits down next to Harry, Lottie in front of him and Daisy by his other side, inhaling deeply. He could probably inhale that whole bowl of potato crisps.

It’s the best feeling in the world being there. His entire family, including the extended one, is around him, smiling and laughing. The weather is warm and the sky beautiful. He is still a little baked, and his boyfriend is keeping a cosy hand on his thigh under the table, stroking his leg, and smirking adorably as though he is being subtle.

“You’re not subtle, baby,” Louis whispers as he leans into his side. Harry smirks impishly, his fingers pressing into Louis’ inner thigh. Louis lets out a slow breath, swallowing as he moves the hand to the small of his back instead, running a finger on either side of his spine. It feels like a breeze of electricity tickling his skin, every touch still feeling a little more than it is due to the drugs still in his system.

The table is being cleared after the main course, a sweet scented rhubarb pie being placed onto the table. Harry refills his and Louis’ wine glasses, keeping his warm palm under Louis’s shirt, flat against his back. 

“Haven’t kissed you in so long,” he hums into his ear.

“It’s been, like… two hours, love.” 

“I miss you…” he breathes against the shell of his ear, making him shiver.

Louis stands from the table, and Harry follows instantly. Not everyone is seated between the courses, and they go relatively unnoticed. Louis can feel Lottie’s eyes following them around the table, though, but he only gives her a narrowed look before disappearing into the house with Harry in tow. The spacious kitchen is vacant, but filled with used plates and leftovers. They are alone.

“C’mere,” Louis says as soon as they’re hidden, pulling Harry in by the waist. Harry pliantly comes to lean on him where he rests against the kitchen worktop, hands softly stroking up the plates of his chest. 

“You’re really fit, you know,” he hums with a tiny smirk, hands tracing his torso. 

“Only just noticed?” Louis lifts his arm, bicep clenching. “You’ve seen these, right?” 

“Shu’up,” Harry grins, and kisses him. It’s heated right away, but in a slow and building way. Harry curves against him, all intimacy and vague submission. Louis wants to touch him, he really does, and he lets his hand move down to his hip, pressing him nearer. His fingers dig in where his arse meets thigh, the other flat against the small of his back, just the tips sinking in under the edge of his blue, tight jeans.

“Lou, you’re making me too —”

“Hot?” he finishes for him. “Me, too.”

Harry moves back just a bit. “Really?”

They haven’t done nothing but kiss since the night of the release party, but today things feel right. Things feel good. Everything is sort of perfect.

“Lewie? What you doing?” They both look down to find little Doris standing by the entrance of the kitchen, looking at them with round eyes. 

Louis keeps his arm around Harry, but in a more respectable manner. He brings him with him as he approaches his younger sister, crouching down, hand at the back of Harry’s knee. “Hey, you. What are you doing here?”

“Mummy said pie,” she says shyly, looking at Harry and then Louis. “Lewie?”

“Yeah, little love?”

“You love Hawwy?”

He smiles. “Yes, I do.”

“Okay,” she says, fiddling with her tiny hands. “You kiss Hawwy?”

“Yeah, love. Do you wanna go tell Mummy we’ll be out in a bit?” He strokes her soft little cheek with a finger. “Yeah?”

“Okay.” She nods seriously and immediately turns around, heading out toward the terrace. 

“You’re adorable with her,” Harry says, smiling down at him, entirely endeared. “So lovely.”

Louis stands, letting his hand run along Harry’s leg until he is cupping his arse firmly, making his jump as he grips him. Harry inhales, visibly affected. Louis grins, licking his lip. “You wanna go out and tell everyone?”

“Okay,” he whispers, and plants a tiny kiss to his lip. “I’m a little nervous. Never told anyone I love you before… all the boys just knew.”

“If it makes you feel any better, Lottie already knows.” He strokes over his jeans. “Not that we’re together, but that I’m in love with you.”

Harry can’t seem to help the smile that tugs at his lip. “You’re in love with me…”

“Yes,” Louis smirks. He holds out his hand. “Away to it soldier?”

Harry laces their fingers, nods silently, and follows him out. 

He will admit he feels rather self-conscious as they exit the door and emerge on the terrace, hand in hand. He sees and feels everyone’s eyes on them, strolling around the table until they reach their seats. He takes a sip from his wine, letting his arm wrap around Harry’s shoulders as the other boy tucks into his side, smiling adorably. He laces his hand with Harry’s, who places a light kiss on his knuckles. Louis clears his throat. 

Anyone who didn’t notice their linked hands before is looking at them now, regarding the way they are slotted together, fitting into one another in a very non-platonic manner. The pie smells delicious from across the table, there is ice cream that’s just starting to melt, but everyone is looking at them. 

Louis glances at Harry, who only nods, giving him the honours. He refrains from rolling his eyes. Harry bites his bottom lip, blinking prettily. 

“Ahem.” He forces his eyes to relocate. He meets his family’s gazes. “So, Harry and I have a little announcement to make.” They’re all staring. “So, mothers, stepfathers, sisters, and one tiny little brother… Harry and I —”

“ — are in a relationship,” Harry finishes eagerly, grinning wildly as Louis glances at him. 

“As in dating?” Fizzy asks immediately, brow arched in surprise. Slight shock is written on all of their faces, except for Anne who is smiling as though she already knew, and Lottie is smirking into her manicured nails. Louis definitely not be surprised if he found out she was the one to tell Harry’s mum.

“Is this true, Louis?” Jay asks from the other side the table, looking at him earnestly. She has always been very concerned when it comes to boys because of his sexuality, protective like a mama bear. She didn’t accept Elliott until she had met him and was reassured he understood Louis to the fullest. 

“It’s true,” he confirms, nodding. His free hand pats Harry’s tummy affectionately. 

“Not trying to be rude, but how did this happen? Considering…?” Dan asks. 

Louis looks at Harry. “It just… sort of happened over the summer.”

Harry nods. “With everything surrounding my job, we grew closer and then it just… worked out.”

“Grew closer?” Lottie snickers. “You’ve been all over each other the entire summer. You sleep in the same bed!”

Fizzy turns to her. “Really?”

Louis clears his throat. “No need to get on with the details, Lots. We just wanted the whole family to be aware that this is not a job thing anymore, it’s a _real_ thing.”

Jay stares at him with big, shiny eyes. “My two babies together…?”

Harry chuckles. “Yes, Jay.”

She breaks into a happy squeal and stands from the table, running over to wrap them both in a forceful hug. “God, I’m so happy for you! Congratulations, darlings!” She laughs in zeal, kissing their cheeks and cradling them both at her sides. 

Anne is next, hugging them tightly and congratulating them. “Oh, I’m so excited. You make a perfect couple. Robin, love, don’t we still have that bottle of Champagne?”

“I’m on it, darling.”

“Alright, alright,” Harry interrupts before entire table gets up from their seats. “The ice cream is melting.”

Anne lets them go, rubbing their arms warmly. She smiles at Louis. “Are you sure? This is a big step, love.”

“One hundred per cent,” he promises, grinning into her shoulder as she hugs him again. 

Robin comes back not much later, popping the bottle open and filling flutes on a tray. Louis’ mum is taking already photos on her phone, meanwhile Dan starts serving the pie and ice cream onto everyone’s plates. Finally in their seats around the table, flutes in hands, Harry takes Louis’ hand, placing a kiss to his knuckles. 

“Thanks guys for being so nice to us. I really, really miss you all when I’m away, and I’m going to keep on doing so always. I love you all so much. You’re the best family and extended family one could wish for. And… I really love you, Lou. Thanks for being my best friend.”

Quiet aww’s go around the table, the parents smiling and the kids smirking.

“So lovely, Harry,” Jay smiles, holding up her flute. 

“Nice,” Gemma salutes him.

“Dotty told me you kissed in the kitchen,” Lottie says, smirking into her Champagne. “Maybe you can do it outside now.”

Louis rolls his eyes, but it doesn’t take much to lean in and meet Harry’s lips in a soft peck. He can hear his mum snapping pictures, one of which she will surely post on her Instagram account along with the hundred other of Harry and the family. 

The rest of the night is quiet and blissful. Louis remains close to Harry as everyone finishes off the dessert and their drinks. They huddle under a blanket as the sun completely sets, playing with each other’s fingers, murmur soft words to one another. 

Eventually Louis’ mum has to go put down the youngest pair of twins, and she hugs them both again, pressing her warm cheek to Louis’. “You gonna come home to sleep, sweetheart?” 

“I think I’m going to crash here with Haz, if that’s fine with our mums?” he smiles. 

She rolls her eyes, shaking her head at him in that mummy way of hers. “Of course, love. Home for breakfast, yeah?”

“For sure. Night, Mum.” He bends down to kiss the wee ones on their heads. “Night, loves.”

While Dan goes with Jay, Gemma points toward the living room. “The girls and I were gonna watch a film if you wanna…?”

“Sure —”

“Louis and I were gonna head up actually,” Harry interrupts, slinging an arm around his waist. “Yeah? I need to talk to you.”

Louis nods slowly. “Alright.”

“See you tomorrow, boys. Congrats, by the way,” she smirks. “Always thought you would do well together.”

“Thanks, Gems,” Louis says, sticking his tongue out at her when she does the same. 

They say goodnight to everyone, and then Harry takes Louis’ hand and tugs him upstairs, walking slowly until they reach Harry’s room. It’s still the same as he left so long ago, much like Louis’ room hasn’t changed since he moved out. His walls are still lavender, various old posters here and there. There are his favourite books on his shelf, the large mirror and the guitar stand. His yellow old Nintendo is still resting on the shelf, and Louis has a hard time remembering if that’s actually his or Harry’s. Anne has made the bed already, the sheets white and clean. 

“D’you have a purple bed in L.A. because of how your room here looks?” he asks, realisation hitting as he kicks his shoes off. He sits down on the bed, waiting for Harry to settle by his side, still jeans and shirt on.

Harry nods, tugging his t-shirt off and letting it fall to the floor. “It reminds me of home.”

Louis scoots in on the bed, crossing his legs as Harry moves in in front of him, leaving only a little bit of space between them. His hands land on Louis’ knees, stroking up his thighs and back. 

“I love your bed,” Louis hums. “It’s perfect.”

“I love you in it,” Harry replies seriously. 

Louis lifts a hand, his finger running down Harry’s chest until it reaches his belly button. He circles it slowly, watching how his stomach tenses until he moves it down to his jeans. He lets his hand rest over the zipper and button, biting his lip as he looks up to meet his eyes. 

Harry swallows, hands still on Louis’ thighs. “Have you ever considered moving to London?” 

Louis looks up, brows rising up his forehead. “What?” he asks, voice husky. 

“I’ve been thinking that,” he swallows, “you should move to London.” He is biting his lip, looking at him uncertainly. “Just, listen first?”

Louis nods.

“You can live with me until you find a place. Or you can even stay at my house always. It will be yours, too. I’m gonna be in America a lot, obviously, but it will be so much easier if you’re in London. I will spend all my free time there, and I will able to come home to you every night when I’m in England.”

“You love Los Angeles, Harry.”

“I love you _more_. I get L.A. when I’m there for work, and besides, it will just even out the time I spend here and there. I want you in London so I can be with you. I can’t _not_ be with you.”

Louis knows what it feels like. Being apart from Harry like they used to be is unthinkable. 

“Harry, I don’t have the money for that,” he says quietly. “The paycheques from this thing covered my flat and then some, but I have to find a job now.”

“There are so many job opportunities in London, Lou. And you have friends there. Stan, Luke, and Cass… and I’m sure a lot more. You go there to see them so much, and you have nothing but family keeping you here.”

“I…”

Harry looks at him earnestly. “You said it yourself, babe. You get lazy here, and you don’t like that. Maybe London is the change of setting you need…?” 

He is sort of right. Additionally, if they are going to make this relationship work, like a proper one, then maybe a few sacrifices have to be made. He loves his flat, his alcoholic neighbour that always lends him her car, and her ugly cat, and the colour of his kitchen walls… But besides that and family, he doesn’t have anything keeping him in Manchester. 

“If it’s money that’s the problem then don’t let it be one. Until you get a job, _please_ rely on me. You know it’s not an issue, and if we make it a problem now then it’s always gonna be problem between us. Our financial situations are just the way things are.”

Louis takes a deep breath. “Okay,” he says.

“Okay?” He stares at him, trying to figure out what his answer means. “Okay what?”

“Okay,” he nods, meeting his eyes nervously, feeling warm blood pumping through his veins. “We’re gonna figure all of this out properly, but for now, okay. Yes.”

It’s real. All of this is real. It’s not a dream. 

“Yes?” Harry breathes. Louis nods. Harry makes a strange noise and reaches for him, crashing into his body with full force, landing on top of him against the mattress. Louis lets out a strained breath, laughing into the kiss Harry gives him. 

Wow. Jesus Christ, he might be moving to London for him. 

“I love you,” Harry whispers into his skin, thighs straddling his hips as his torso rests on top of him. “In the best way.”

Louis brushes his hair from his eyes, tucking it behind his adorable ears. “You’re my best friend, you know? Sometimes I think people who say that about their significant other are just doing it because they love them, but you… you truly are my best mate.”

Harry swallows, nodding. His eyes are a bit glassy. “You belong with me,” he says thickly. 

Louis leans up and kisses him, conveying everything he can’t say. Harry’s naked torso is warm above him, and Louis gently tips him to the side until they are on their backs, legs tangled and mouths attached. Harry’s tongue is warm and wet, licking against Louis’ and brushing his lips. He kisses filthily, this boy, lips totally sultry and enticing. 

Louis relocates to his neck, hand flat on his sternum. He can feel how his muscles tense when he moves closer to his side, his breath stuttering and nearest hand clutching Louis’ hair at his neck. By now he is starting to know how the other boy is and feels when he is getting into it; how his hands on him turn more desperate for something hold on to, lungs laboured, and how he likes to grip his hair.

His nose flattens against Harry’s neck, teeth scraping gently before his lips suck into his skin. Harry’s chest rises and falls as Louis lowers his hand across his torso, sinking until he reaches the button of his jeans. He looks up to meet Harry’s eyes, feeling his own belly flutter with excited nerves. He hasn’t done this in so long, but the way Harry looks at him makes him feel more than okay.

He is hard, his large cock straining against his trousers now that Louis’ hand is there, hovering. Harry swallows audibly, exhaling loudly as Louis fits his hand around him, squeezing. Louis leans in again, kissing his neck in soft motions, gently rubbing him over his jeans with just a little bit of pressure. Harry’s hand is tight in his hair, eyes fluttering closed as Louis licks over his skin. He is hard and big, and there is a sudden desire in Louis that makes him pop the button open, pulling the fly down. 

The feeling of Harry’s hand on him, and the way he reacts to every touch, the effect that Louis has on him, is what makes him want it. The sound of his breathing, the way his body shifts in the sheets, the small sounds he makes — everything. He tugs his jeans down just a bit, and glancing down he can see his thick, curved cock under the thin material of the grey boxers, resting against his hip. He runs a hand over him, thumb dragging along the edge, and Harry releases a hot breath, eyes opening. He looks down at Louis with pretty, large eyes, pupils blown and mouth ajar.

Louis kisses him, lips wet and sucking, distracting him for a moment until his fingers disappear under the elastic of his boxers, meeting sparse, soft hair. He pushes the pants down, closing a hand around him, squeezing. 

“Ah…!” Harry’s nails dig into Louis’ skull, whimpering huskily. Louis feels himself slowly growing hard with the anticipation of what Harry is going to sound and look like as he finishes. He loosely runs his hand up his cock, over the foreskin and back.

“Dry or wet?” he hums into the skin under his ear, kissing softly. 

“Not dry,” he stutters, brows knitted prettily.

Louis brings his hand up, letting his fingertips softly tap Harry’s lips. He glances at him, but slowly opens his mouth and lets Louis carefully move his fingers. He sucks on them tentatively, hips shifting against the mattress as his tongue swirls. Louis’ breath feels heavier, and can’t refrain from inhaling Harry’s skin, exhaling over his collarbone, sending shivers across his bare skin. When his hand is wet enough he removes it from his lips, not taking too long to get a firm grip around him. Harry’s hips move upward by reflex, a low sound ringing from down his throat.

Louis can see his clenched hand in the sheets, feel the other one on his neck, and as he rests his chin on his shoulder, face buried in his neck, he realises how much he smells like _him_. Like Louis.

He moves his hand up and pulls the foreskin back, thumb tracing over the head, spreading the precome already there and using it as further lubrication. Harry’s hips move, back arching as he starts to jerk him off. Granted, it doesn’t take too long until his hand flies up to clutch Louis’ wrist. He doesn’t stop him, but follows his movements from there, breath getting fast and head pressing into the pillows behind him. 

“Harry…” Louis hums, swallowing. He hides in his neck, his own chest fluttering as though he were the one about to have an orgasm. The intimacy between them is heavy, charged.

Harry comes with shaking fingers and a low, low groan. His chest falls as he spills over their hands, come painting his hip and stomach. Louis can feel it while they both slowly tug him through it, hands slick but close, Harry’s large one hugging Louis’. He closes his eyes and breathes slowly, able to feel himself straining in his own trousers. 

“So pretty,” he whispers to Harry’s jaw. “I love you.” Harry blinks hazily, nodding slowly in agreement.

Louis sits up after a couple of minutes of lying close and letting the other boy catch his breath, finding Harry’s t-shirt on the floor. He silent wipes him off, then taking his hand and softly cleaning his beautiful fingers. He tucks back into his pants, and Harry comes to life a moment later, blinking up at him in wonder and adoration. There’s a small smile on his mouth when he takes Louis’ arm and pulls him down to lie by his side. 

“Never had anyone do that before,” he whispers, his nose brushing Louis’.

“Was it okay?”

“Perfect.” His lips touch his in a tiny kiss. “You’re hard,” he whispers. “Can feel you against me.”

Louis nods silently, their noses touching. Louis loves that feeling.

“Want me to —”

“Yeah,” he nods, moving into his side. “Yes.”

Harry shuffles closer. “How you want to…?”

“Just let me be close. Don’t move away.” He burrows into his side, hiding his face in his neck. Harry lies on his side, giving Louis’ cheek a tiny kiss before he runs his hand over this clothed chest and down. 

Louis’ heart is pumping warm blood all the way out his fingertips, and the anticipation that has built within him for the last minutes is fluttering through his veins. He stays hidden in Harry’s neck, eyes closed and breathing in slow inhales. 

Harry’s long and careful fingers undo his fly first, but he doesn’t pull his trousers down. Instead Louis feels his warm palm stroke over his lower stomach back and forth, slowly over his hip and under his jeans where his boxers are exposed. His hand is gentle and warm, stroking his skin like he is getting to know him all over again. He traces the curve of his hip, the jut of the bone there, dipping into his belly button, and running up his sternum. 

Louis exhales, body relaxing further until he feels like honey under Harry’s hand. 

“Are you comfortable?” Harry whispers, voice barely audible not to ruin the harmonious ambience around them. “Tell me if you wanna stop.”

He nods barely against the side of his neck, nose pressing into his skin. His neck is a bit damp still, and his curls tickle Louis’ cheek. He smells like apples… and him.

He barely notices when Harry frees him of jeans and pants. Harry’s neck tastes a bit salty, and his hand around his shoulder is comfortable and soothing. His other hand is already wet when he takes his cock, stroking upward, thumb following along the thick vein on the underside. Louis’ breath catches, stomach swooping as his dick twitches. 

Eyes closed, he can only feel Harry’s hand and his body against his. Louis tucks in close, inhaling his sweet skin and hair. Every touch is like small drops of more Harry on him. Every time his breath brushes his ear, or his curls tickle his jaw, hand firm and steady, he feels a little closer to him. He feels grounded. Home.

He had forgotten what it feels like. He wonders if it has ever felt like this. Harry’s smell, his taste, the way he looks and how he sounds… the sensation where he touches him. The intimacy is overwhelming. His favourite person is _right there_. He can feel his heartbeat under his hand. 

His body seizes as he gets closer, lower stomach tightening and balls drawing closer. His fingers tighten on Harry, letting out a soft breath. If he were religious he would say he feels a little closer to God, but then again perhaps he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d only be just as grateful for having the ability to feel like this. To feel this _right._

It’s easy. 

Afterward Harry wipes them off with his t-shirt, Louis’ breath slowly settling. Harry’s neck his damp where his mouth has been, and Louis’ skin is warm with slight sweat. Harry throws the shirt away, pulling Louis into his arms and wrapping himself around him. They lie in silence for a while. Louis blinks lazily, Harry’s breath brushing his chin. 

“You make the prettiest sounds,” he whispers, fingers trailing over the dimples in his back. 

“I love you,” Louis hums back. “Best.”

“You’re my best friend,” Harry hums in a lovely melody, voice throaty but beautiful. 

“Queen.”

“Demigod.”

Louis’ lip pulls. He buries into Harry’s neck and inhales. 

It’s all really real. 

  
**(AN: original manip credit:[xxxx](http://yourssincerelylarry.tumblr.com/post/132559122773) )**


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue <3
> 
> tumblr: [isthatyoularry](http://isthatyoularry.tumblr.com/)  
> twitter: [isthatyoularry](https://twitter.com/isthatyoularry)

**Epilogue.**

There are pros and cons of having Harry home.

Cons. Louis doesn’t get nearly enough work done. His classes are planned at latest possible moment, he doesn’t get much fresh air, he can’t be barefoot if he is going to have his feet on the kitchen worktop, and the fridge runs out of milk far too soon. 

Pros. He is home. He is clingy, steals his food at dinner, listens to strange music, cleans the kitchen worktop twice after Louis has sneakily had his feet there, smells like apples, sings so it echoes through the house, and he is _home_.

Winter has come and gone, and spring is nearing. Early March is still cold, but the sun is starting to peek out more and more. They have been together for almost seven months, and it’s been both easy and hard. 

The first weeks apart when Louis was in Manchester and Harry had to do promotion work for his album were rather miserable. At first Louis could indulge in spending time with his family and the friends he hadn’t seen in months, but missing Harry quickly turned difficult. There were too many abroad phone calls to pay for, hours of FaceTiming that didn’t quite feel enough, and the yearning to be near one another was trying. New couples are supposed to get the time for the honeymoon phase, but they never really got longer than a week.

Louis moved into Harry’s London house at the end of October, a little more than a month after they decided that was the way to go. At the start it was hard to treat the place as his own, and it took him almost a month before he had guests over when Harry wasn’t there. It does feel like home these days, even though the house can feel empty being there alone for sometimes weeks at a time. 

Finding work was not as easy as he had hoped, either. He had a substitute position at a local school for a couple of weeks in November, but afterward the drought of work got rougher, leaving him unable to join Harry for award season in America as he was doing interviews almost on top of one another. However, either the jobs he was offered were temporary, or the available ones were too far away or were not in his subjects. He finally got a permanent position at a public school forty minutes from their house, a place he had been interviewed at once before. He started by spring term, it’s been working out so far so good. 

During break in February Harry flew him out to Jamaica, where an industry friend of his had lent him his holiday house. For a sixth-month anniversary it was not too shabby. Louis had to be home for school again after just a week, coming home tan and relaxed, but luckily Harry is still home with him for a while more before duty calls in America. The upcoming tour for their album is starting in July, and there are still decisions yet to be made, including rehearsals that won’t begin until another couple months. 

Louis is scrolling through his photo album on his phone, choosing which one from their holiday to post. He knows colleagues, parents and teenagers from his school might have a look at his social media, which is why his Facebook and Twitter are now private, but he keeps his Instagram opened because Harry’s social media manager insisted on it, seeing as it’s a perfect marketing tool. It’s now cleaned from any disputable photos it once held. 

Of course there are fans of Harry’s at the school. The adults are professional enough not to ask more about his private life than they would any other colleague, but the kids are a bit more difficult. He knows there are some students tweeting about him after classes, if he yelled at them or said something about his weekend or whatever random anecdote, but it has been surprisingly okay. Most of them have grown out of the initial curiosity he garnered the first few weeks. 

He picks a colourful picture of Harry, adjusting the filter only slightly. He knows he will be teased about the caption by the three girls in one of his English classes, no doubt. He has been asked about the music video for Harry’s song at least fifty-two times, and he has tried not to get flustered at their not exactly respectable inquires.

As it is, the details of their relationship have been kept private. Harry revealed in an interview that his first kiss was indeed Louis when he was a teenager, but he said they didn’t get together until a while later. The number of months they had been ‘together’ for before his coming out have not been disclosed of, and neither how it happened. Jeff’s magazine got their big exclusive of course — the first kiss pictures and direct quotes from Harry about coming out to the world. There were not more than a few mentions of Louis in the article, which mostly regarded how supportive he has been through Harry’s decision to come out. 

It’s still a thing in the press. Any time Harry’s PR team drags them out for papped dates they are on the front page of magazines around the country, which is admittedly a lot less frequent nowadays than around the time of his coming out. As Louis has not been paid to do work since October, he doesn’t work directly for Harry’s PR firm anymore, and picture dates are by choice to participate. However, usually these days private photos have been used instead, and they haven’t been papped together since January, probably. Harry’s fans call it a dry spell. 

Posting the picture, he garners a few thousand likes within minutes. It still feels a bit mad.

  
**(AN: original manip credit:[xxxx](http://teenagedharold.tumblr.com/post/140436478520/harry-styles-for-ysl-3-of-the-outfit-series) )**

He takes a short moment to stare up at the ceiling of their bedroom, blinking at the purple paint. It feels a bit like a galaxy, similar to the way Harry’s Los Angeles bed feels like. There are white see-through drapes around this bed, but they have lavender sheets and a big fluffy comforter. Harry made him help with the remodelling in December. He wanted it to feel more like the house was theirs, saying it should look like both of them want it to. It’s been a bit strange, moving from a tiny flat to a large, fancy London house, but he has gotten used to it. It feels like home the most when Harry is there.

There’s a squeak from the bathroom that interrupts him, sounding like someone slipping on wet tile. He sits up, hair a bit on end. Saturdays are spent mostly in bed.

“Honey?” he calls, a bit of worry rubbing at him. “You alright?”

“Fine! Just a bit — jeez, Snoops!”

Louis stands from the bed, slipping out through the closed drapes and ambling toward the door leading into the bathroom. The next room is spacious and bright, a large padded seat in the middle, and the bathtub, where the action is currently happening, at the far end, large windows facing the their beautiful garden (which is rather pale at this time of year, to be quite honest). 

Louis sighs, hands settling on his hips. “So, you’re _in_ the tub with the cat?”

They got a cat two months ago. Right. It’s beginning to feel like she’s been there all along. 

“She kept shaking her fur. I got wet anyway.”

She was mainly to keep Louis company — how pathetic, honestly — but he is starting to think of her as a family member these days. She’s in yellowish orange, with large eyes and a pink little nose. She is not too mischievous of a cat, but baths are usually not welcomed. Harry is crouching in the ankle deep water inside the tub, having bubbles and soap up to his elbows. His rolled up trousers are soaked and patchy, his shirt left abandoned on the wet tile floor. 

Louis watches in amusement as Harry attempt to rinse the little animal of cat shampoo, placing a finger over his lips to keep himself from snickering. Harry is not too agile or flexible in the tub — in bed, oh yes, but not with a four months old kitten trying to escape him. 

“Snoops!” Harry protests when she shakes her fur again, droplets of water landing all the way over at Louis’ bare feet. Louis can’t contain himself anymore and laughs, getting his phone out and taking a quick snap. They have yet to share the fact that they have a cat together, but he figures this is as good time as any. 

“Snoopy, be a good kitten and let Papa clean you up, yeah?” He scratches her under the chin, extracting a little mewl. 

Harry huffs. “She likes you more than me.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Louis croons, petting her with his finger on top of her head. “Because I don’t bathe you, yeah? Yeah. That’s right. I don’t bathe you, darling.”

“You’re indirectly making me the bad parent, Lou.” 

“Just don’t bathe her then,” he shrugs as Harry starts to once again rinse off the shampoo, taking advantage of Louis distracting her.

“So, we’re gonna have a nasty smelling kitten between us when we go to sleep. Is that what you’re implying?”

“Snoopy doesn’t smell. No, you don’t. Papa is being mean to you…”

Harry rolls his eyes and turns off the showerhead, releasing a breath of relief. “Get the towel, will you?”

He fetches it and holds it open as Harry lifts her up with one hand, rolling her into a little burrito. She does love a snuggle… Louis wrinkles his nose. Perhaps not when she smells like wet fur, though. He dries her up as best he can, following Harry out into the bedroom with her in his arms. The boy strips from his soaked jeans, shoving his pants down with them and dumping his clothes in the hamper. Louis’ eyes shamelessly trail from his neck to thighs, lingering on his abdominal muscles for a moment. 

“Are you gonna join me?” Harry asks, nodding at the bathroom door.

“Let me just let this monster loose. The kitchen door’s closed, right? And the laundry room?”

“Yeah, I’m certain.”

“Go refill the tub. And bath bombs! The pink ones!” he calls behind him as he exits the room. 

With Snoopy in his arms, already prepared for her trying to escape as soon as she sets eye on the rug on the floor by the top of the staircase. It’s her favourite spot to roll around and lick her paws on when she’s wet, for whatever reason. He sets her down as gently as he can manage with her writhing in his arms, even though cats are pretty good at landing on their feet. She dashes toward fluffy rug instantly, jumping into the air and shaking her fur simultaneously. Louis leaves her too it with an endeared smile.

He closes the bedroom door behind him so Snoopy doesn’t wet the bed if she for some reason wants to lie somewhere else. He pulls his t-shirt and boxers off, leaving them on the floor for Harry to inevitably pick up some time during the afternoon, and enters the bathroom. His boyfriend of nearly seven months is already in the tub, surrounded by pink bubbles. He smiles as he sees Louis enter, biting his lip and moving from the end of the tub to make space. Louis slips in behind him, sighing at the hot water in pleasure. He wraps his arms around Harry’s chest and pulls him toward himself, hooking his chin over his shoulder. 

“Today’s a good day,” he hums, closing his eyes. 

“Only five until I have to go again.”

“Don’t do that,” Louis chastises quietly. “I hate when you do that.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t miss me when I’m already here.”

“Sorry.” Harry slides down slightly, snuggling back against him. “I want to be with you all the time.”

“Me, too, baby.” 

“This is good, too,” he says. “It’s the best way, yeah?”

“It is. Don’t forget summer break, either.” Louis smiles against his ear. “Just you and me, and the rest of Europe every other night.”

Harry chuckles, and they sit in silence for a long moment, enjoying the warm water and comfortable playlist Harry seems to have put on, playing from the little stereo. Louis can feel his hand stroking his outer thigh, and though it doesn’t make his heart pound in that nerve-wrecking way anymore, it still makes him warm. Being touched by Harry is the loveliest, and touching him back is just as sweet. 

They have had sex, in both positions. It took them about a month to work up to it, and with being away from each for two full weeks, the wish to be as close as possible brought them there. They have learned quite some since then, developing favourites of different kinds, and learning what they don’t enjoy as much as other things. Louis has never been a relationship this long before, but he is certain there are many who have never been in a relationship like theirs, either. There are certain perks to falling in love with your best mate. 

“Can you believe I was a virgin until I was twenty-two?” Harry hums quietly, as though he’s been thinking along the same lines, sitting there in the warm tub, chest to back.

“Yes,” he whispers into his neck, giving the spot a little kiss. “And that’s normal. You’re just a kid.”

“Gemma had sex when she was fifteen…”

“Yeah, well, not everyone gets the chance to do that. Or want to… Besides, isn’t it kind of wonderful that you got to have your first time with the love of your life?”

Harry giggles. “Presumptuous, aren’t you?” he whispers. He angles his head back to look at him, touching his face with light fingers and sparkling eyes. 

“You and me, love,” Louis murmurs, kissing his lips and hugging him closer. 

“Can you believe how everything has turned out?” Harry asks. “A year ago could you believe this?”

Louis watches him for a long moment, taking in the damp tendrils having freed themselves from his loose bun, his big green eyes, and his pink plump lips. “You've got no clue how lucky I feel,” he whispers.

Harry blinks back at him, swallowing. “I think I have an idea.”

It is hard to comprehend how incredibly fortune his life is these days. Being with Harry is wonderland. That he gets to be his best friend and boyfriend is that and then some. To Harry’s question he has no answer, or… perhaps he would have been able to believe it, actually.

He has always believed in fate, and fate has a way of working itself out.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I am always up for constructive criticism so go ahead :) Kudos, and comments in general are greatly appreciated too xx If you want, [here](http://isthatyoularry.tumblr.com/post/132722510124/california-sold-chapters-2-author) is a post on tumblr to reblog if you'd like :)
> 
>  **If you want to say hi:**  
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